Gray Into Brown
by LuckyJo2
Summary: Hermione's father is a sore subject. She isn't happy-in fact, she's depressed-at every mention or thought of him. Maybe a little love could lift her broken heart...if only she could figure boys out! And then there's Draco-with an impossible crush on Hermione. Can he bring her to love him, or is this love one-sided, and one-sided only?
1. Chapter 1

_Gray into Brown_

_A Dramione FanFic by me, Lauren _

**A/N: Hey guys! It's been awhile. Listen, I know my first piece of writing, There's No Way I Could Make It Without You, an Austin and Ally FanFic, was pretty horrible. And I kinda gave up on the Hinny FanFic. So, yeah! Here's a Dramione FanFic. It takes place sixth year, and a few things from JK Rowling will be the same here, but not everything. Disclaimer: ****I do not own any part of the Harry Potter Universe: all of them belong to JK Rowling. ****Hope ya enjoy ****!**

Chapter 1: Noticing Things

Hermione's POV

I sing a little song as I get up, ready to work. It's a bit depressing, but a nice tune. I made it up to get myself through the tough days of overwork, stress, and sadness. After my father contracted cancer, I sunk into a depression. He's better now, yes, sure, of—of course, but we haven't spoken in months.

_Lonely, quiet, pale and wan, screaming for all this to end…_

I used to wander outside after midnight and stand by the frozen lake, dressed in a parka and slippers, just thinking and staring at my reflection. Eventually I'd start sobbing, my tears almost freezing on my cheeks, and then stop abruptly, my insides crumbling.

…_Thin and small, used to be pretty, now all she's got is a shred of dignity…_

I thought, a lot, about my grades, my only refuge. I poured myself into my schoolwork. I couldn't tell anyone of my father's condition, otherwise I knew I'd break down and lose my flimsy hold on reality.

…_The fire that was inside her, it's lost all its fuel, and she's nervous in front of her friends, trying hard to keep her cool…_

Ron, Harry, Neville, and Luna never noticed anything, except I was quieter. I blamed it on Malfoy. Now, Harry and Ron glare at him all the time and Neville actually yelled at him once. Luna would slip her arms around me and try to make me laugh, with tales of hunting for Crumple-Horned Snorkacks or whatever their names are. They were all so sweet, I wanted to tell them, but I never brought myself to. Even wizards have no cure for cancer. He's not even a wizard, so they weren't sure if they'd work on him anyway.

…_The sun is gone, the clouds moving in; the monster in where her heart was is just about to win…_

My heart was in a million pieces by the time I was just about to lose it, just about to raise my wand and _avada kedavra_, just go, just leave it all behind.

…_Fighting back, the monster defeated, but still pieces are missing where her heart and feelings meted…_

I fought back, ever so weakly, but still fought. I actually fought it for three years after my dad…before he got "it" and…and is okay now. But for awhile, it showed strikingly in my bony wrists, thin frame, and blue shadows under my tear-soaked eyes.

…_You couldn't tell it now, she's holding fast, but the damage is done, the destruction will last._

I eventually came to my senses and was able to hide it, but every night I'm haunted by nightmares of when I had to leave him and my tear-sodden mother, I left them at home, which really wasn't home anymore, but a prison.

I sing this song as I ready myself, apply a bit of hair gel to keep my hair down, and gather my books. A picture of me and Harry and Ron and Neville and Luna, sitting by the lake, catches my eye. I flip it over.

_To 'Mione, from Harry, Ron, Luna and Neville, too—_

_ Hey 'Mione. We thought you seemed down lately. Is old dung bag—which is to say Malfoy—acting up like last time? Neville took this picture last week._

_ Love from your friends_

Tears threaten to spill out from in between my eyelashes, and I close them. Oh gosh, oh gosh, don't cry; don't cry…They're so dang sweet! Ah, ah, ah…It catches me every single time! I smile, trying to weaken the tear flow, but they're coming hard. They care, thank God, they care! It makes me so happy. Which is strange, since it seems like that's never truly the case anymore.

I hate this. I hate this depression I've sunk into. I try and claw my way out of it but only end up more scarred. I can't distract myself as well by my schoolwork. I've been shutting out my friends. I need to—have to—be with them more. Harry, Ron, Neville and Luna: the best, honestly the best, friends I could hope for.

I clutch the picture with my bony hands and stick it onto my wall next to my bed. Ron winks at me. Harry adjusts his glasses with a chuckle. Neville waves fiercely. Luna fixes her wide eyes on me with a shy smile. I see myself truly happy. Truly joyous.

"Thank you," I whisper to the rising sun. "For them." I would probably ashes now if it weren't for them. It's funny how just a _Diffindo_ in the right spot could make me a mere memory. Funny, but frightening. I press my forehead to the window. A drop rolls down the misty glass. Is it a happy tear or a sad tear? Maybe a bit of both.

Lavender and Parvati enter the dormitory, laughing. They spot me and stop, suddenly.

"Good morning, Hermione," Lavender says warily.

"Hello" is all I say.

"Is everything okay?" Parvati asks softly.

I bite my lip. "Um…yes. I'm fine. Thank you."

"Okay," they say in unison, very gently.

This makes me wonder: are Parvati and Lavender my friends? Maybe they have been. Third year was rocky—the Binky incident and all—and over the last few years, we haven't talked much. Strange, as we're in the same dormitory and all. I stroke a lock of hair, my eyes unfocused. They've never been particularly nice, but never extremely mean for long periods of time, either. I haven't exactly been friendly to them. It's been neutral, I guess, but I never thought they viewed me as one of their "girlfriends". I've never really studied them, either. Lavender's very nice-looking, with light, golden-brown hair that's curly but straight, and big, bright cinnamon-colored eyes. Parvati has straight, dark hair that's in a plait today, dark eyes, and coffee-colored skin. Her posture is straight and strong, like she's important and a leader. They're both gorgeous girls, but giggly and unintelligent. Still, I heard Lavender squeal about her E in Transfiguration yesterday. I just smile halfheartedly, turn, and hoist my bag over my shoulder.

"Oh, crap, I forgot my Charms book!" Lavender shrieks, slapping her forehead with her palm. "I left it in Flitwick's room!"

"Want me to go with you to get it?" Parvati asks. Her eyes rest on me.

"No, no, it's okay. I'll run and get it."

"Why was it in Flitwick's room?"

"I was studying there with Ron last night, and I forgot it!"

I freeze, my eyes fixed on Lavender.

My insides contract. Maybe it was someone else. I think there's a Ron in fifth year. Or I misheard it. There's a Dom in Hufflepuff.

But I feel like my stomach is full of lead. I know it's Ron, _my _Ron, a Weasley. Why do I care? Why? It's Lavender. Maybe—maybe she was helping him? But then, why wouldn't she ask me? I'm smarter, a million times smarter than all of the sixth year combined. My cheeks warm. No. No, no, no. NO. This isn't happening. Nope. Not. Not. Ron—it's always been him and me. Me and him. Study-buddies. More like I-read-he-doesn't-pay-attention. More like we both end up laughing so hard we cry, slumped against each other, breathless with each other. He's mine. Mine. Hermione's. 'Mione's.

"Oooh, Ronnie and Lavender, sittin' in a tree, love potions made by me, me, me!" Parvati teases. I feel my heart freeze. Crap, no. Stop, stop, stop…

"Oh, shut up, you!" Lavender giggles, poking Parvati's shoulder. They both laugh. Hee-hee, tee-hee, ha-hee, ee-ee! That's what it sounds like. Hyper squirrels. Radioactive—I don't know—acorns! They're so annoying. How could I consider them friends, even for a moment?

"Okay—so—so, here's the deal—hold on," Lavender chokes, laughing. "Okay. I'll go get it. You stay here. I'll come down to breakfast, 'kay? Save me a chocolate-chip muffin."

"'Kay!" Parvati grins toothily. She twirls a strand of dark hair around her finger. I have the nerve to raise an eyebrow through the ice coursing through my veins. Jealousy.

Crap. Again. This is so, so bad. Lavender doesn't know about me and Ron. Our special relationship. Our friendship, which, maybe to me, is a bit more than a friendship. Maybe. I'm not sure. This depression—the Snake—is slowly, quietly, poisoning me. Cutting off my air. Hiding me. Gone is the energetic, smart, important Hermione who loved being called on. Now, a new Hermione has taken her place. She's a bit bony, quiet, and dark. She doesn't get called on, since her teachers have gotten the point. She doesn't care. She doesn't talk. She doesn't feel much anymore. She's numb. Still getting good grades, but even they've dipped, due to the fact that she doesn't listen or pay attention. The only songs she sings are depressing ones. She lurks around, hoping, praying, not to be noticed. Even the ones she cares most for, she doesn't want to see. Doesn't, doesn't, doesn't: she doesn't want anything. Just—just a moment to collect her in this storm. But every time she tries, the gale blows that one important connecting piece away, so she's barely holding herself together.

Lavender departs, leaving me, Parvati, and the Snake. The Snake hisses for an attack, to snap what's going on with Ron. The other part of me, the Dove, whispers of polite small talk. I decide, numbly, on the Dove, just this once.

"That Potions test was brutal," I say brightly, surprising myself. I didn't know I had that in me.

"Oh yeah," Parvati says, almost relieved. "Yeah! I got a P on it." She makes a face. "Professor _Drape_ never liked me anyway."

The old Hermione resurfaces for half a second, wanting to mention that "drape" means to spread across an object, but I only say "I got an O, but he doesn't like me either". Then she's gone. The flame sputters out. The rain presses against me abruptly. The room almost dims. Parvati says something I don't hear.

"Sorry, I didn't catch that," I say, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain helps me focus. I steady myself.

"Oh, I just said, 'did you know about Lavender's—um—grades in Potions? They're better than mine, but, um, not as good as yours'."

"Did you now?" I ask innocently. I'm a great actress.

"Yep!" Her eyes search the room, and then settle on the lake. "Brr. It's probably freezing out there. Remember Viktor Krum? He actually swam in there, and it was midwinter, I think!" She frowns, thinking, and then continues: "Didn't you date him, and go to the Yule Ball with him? Did you ever actually go to his castle?"

The memory bubbles to life, popping inside of my chest. The good old days. It's almost painful, but not quite: like a bit of the sun peeking out of the storm clouds. Then the Snake strikes and I'm brought back to reality.

"Um—yes, yes, and no. We kind of lost touch last year. I wish we hadn't. He was really nice, but not really my type. I still write to him occasionally."

"Oh, cool! Do you know, does he still play Quidditch?" Parvati asks eagerly. "I don't watch it much."

"I think he still does. I don't watch it either!" We laugh together. Wow. How does the Snake content for this long? It must be getting restless. I can't contain it for much longer.

"So—what's your opinion of Ron Weasley? You're always hanging out together," Parvati giggles with a cock of her eyebrow.

That's the first bite. I feel my stomach sink. Crap. She's brought it up.

"Well—we're best friends, you know," I stammer slightly, fighting to keep the Snake from constricting me. "We love each other like siblings."

"Oh. Cause you know, Lavender likes him, and I wouldn't get too attached!" Parvati says lightly.

CRAP. I knew she liked him! And now I have to keep them away from each other. Make him notice me.

"Well, we should get down to breakfast. We'll meet Lav on the way."

"Okay," I say with a smile, the Snake writhing and hissing. But I have control over it. I've mastered it now. Though sometimes I cave. But I still control it.

"So—um—do you have a crush on Draco Malfoy?" Parvati blurts. She covers her mouth with her hand, her cheeks red. "Sorry. But do you?"

I jerk back, appalled. "Draco. Draco Malfoy. How could I possibly like him that way? He's always been horrible to me. Ugh!" I give a little lighthearted giggle. Wow. I really am a great actress. The Snake goes to sleep. Hmm. Why? I actually feel—sort of happy. Weird! But amazing! I'm defeating this thing!

"Well, haven't you noticed?" Parvati says, surprised. "He's always _looking_ at you! And yesterday, he actually tried to show off in front of you! Remember? When he accidentally set his robes on fire?"

"I thought he was just terrible at the Fire-Shooting Spell!" I say, equally shocked. "Seriously?"

"Seriously!" Parvati says with a laugh. I give her a shudder, and she laughs harder. Then her face hardens. "Hey—I know you went through a rough time—your dad and all. But—we're going to try and cheer you up. Me and Lavender, I mean. You're not alone anymore."

"You noticed?" I ask sadly.

"Yeah, it was obvious. I know Harry and Ron were especially concerned about you. Harry came up to us the other day and asked if we did something. He and Ron really care about you. Neville too. He was badgering Malfoy. Luna asked around Ravenclaw. I think you should tell them about your dad."

"How did you know? About him?"

"You talk in your sleep," she says softly. And that's when I realize that Lavender and Parvati _have _been my friends all along. Because they care. They're not dumb. They're not all giggly and girly and annoying—they're concerned, funny, and sweet.

Parvati takes my hand and pulls me into the Great Hall. And that's when the full meaning of her words sink in.

_You're not alone anymore._

No, I'm not.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Gray Into Brown—Chapter 2**_

**A/N: Hey guys! Yeah! I read some of my previous reviews and you guys are the best. I love you all so much! Enjoy Chapter 2!**

Chapter 2: Dragging Her Down

Draco's POV

Crabbe and Goyle are such idiots. They keep trying to draw Hermione Granger over to me, wolf-whistling and cat-calling. I swear, the next time they do I'll hex them into jelly-slugs.

But seriously, Hermione is perfect. She is amazing. Her brains, her eyes, her laugh, and the little bobbing-thing she does when she wants to be called on—it's all just great. I honestly have never felt this way about any other girl—any other girl at all.

I'm playing it cool—calling her "Mudblood" and imitating her buck-toothed (dazzling) smile—but I need to make a move soon, or she'll move onto Ron Weasley, King Weasel. I hate him.

Mother would never forgive me if I went out with her, though. I can only imagine what she'd say. "A _Mudblood_? Goodness, Draco, you can't. You can do so much better. Move on! What poor taste! Can you imagine, a Mudblood kissing my pureblood son's lips? Oh!"

I can already taste the bile.

Our dormitory is greenish at night and makes eerie water-running-over-rocks sounds. It's almost peaceful and it helps me think. Mostly about Hermione.

But she's different now. Shadows under her previously bright eyes, which are now dull and hurt. Her smile somewhat forced. She doesn't raise her hand anymore. She's much quieter. She doesn't talk if she can avoid it. I'm worried. My Hermione (who hates me, I think) is disappearing. I wish I could talk to her, but I couldn't do that in a million years.

I think of her, that one time she slapped me. I was only teasing. And she flat-out slapped me! I actually quite enjoyed it. It was like flirting. Only—harder. I guess. If only we got partnered up for something. Like—we have the same Potions. If we had to make Love Potions together, that would be a dream come true.

For the rest of the time I'm awake I imagine me and Hermione on my Nimbus 2001, her laughing as I hold her hand, flying through the air. It's the sort of thing a hopeless, love-sick person dreams of at night.

I do dream that night, but it is not a good dream.

Hermione is tied to a stake, her head bent and her hair falling over her face. A great snake rears above her, hissing wildly. I don't know what it means, only that I must, must rescue her. She's breathing, but only just. Her hands and bound above her head, exposing her bony wrists. Her hands could be a skeleton's. Her ribs are visible through the thin shirt she has on. Her lips are blue. She's going to die of hunger, or—or hypothermia, or something else even more terrible because it's keeping her from me.

I scream and try to run to her, but something throws me back. It's a solid wall of darkness. Little tendrils of shadows wrap around my ankles and forearms and stomach, constraining me. I scream and scream, Hermione's name over and over. But something covers my mouth and eyes. I scream and scream and scream for Hermione. "HERMIONE!" I yell. "HERMIONE! HERMIONE!" I fight against my assailant. Something, white-hot, fills my throat and eye sockets and nose and chest and feet. It's agony. I cry out in pain. Hermione falls, dead, to the floor. The ground opens from beneath her feet. I scream, "HERMIONE! HERMIONE, COME BACK!" I take a breath. "I love you," I say, my voice trembling. Then she falls. Her skeletal frame disappears into the chasm.

I wake, drenched in sweat, my throat raw. Did I scream into the night? If I did, Crabbe, Goyle, and Curtis (the other oaf in our dormitory) didn't hear. But they sleep through sirens.

It's nearly dawn. I can't sleep any longer. I'll only go back to see the one I care for most—Hermione—dead, dropping into a chasm. But the tendrils of sleep nip at my heels. I slip into a haze. I'm half asleep when Crabbe, Goyle, and Curtis stir. They crash around our dormitory, mumbling about breakfast and Hermione.

I sit straight up. "What'd you say?"

"The Mudblood was lookin' at you earlier. That girl with the dark hair was sittin' next to her. Then they turned to each other an' smiled." Crabbe grins stupidly. "Bet you're happy, ain't you, Draco? You love the Mudblood, don'tcha?"

"Shut _up_, Crabbe!" I say. My voice is tight. "Shut up!"

"Oi, why don'tcha make me, Draky?" Crabbe laughs.

"Oh, I'm sorry," I say, my eyes narrowed. "I meant shut up about her. She's done nothing to deserve this. And I'm only telling you this because you already know I fancy her."

"Oooh!" The three boys start cat-calling. "The Mudblood and the Pureblood! What'll the other Slytherins say?"

"Shut up! No one will know about this, or I personally will curse all of you into oblivion." They quiet, knowing that I have been practicing the Cruciatus Curse. "Good. Keep it this way. Or else."

I turn on my heel and stride into the common room. I get out a piece of parchment and begin to draw. It keeps me busy. I don't even know what I've drawn until my quill has written the letters "H", "E", "R", "M", "I", "O", "N", and "E" embroidered in a heart. I stuff it in my pocket before anyone sees.

Was she really looking at me? If she was, amazing. If not, well, I'm not one to grumble over a girl. Still, Hermione—she's my true love. I know that I'll never find another fish like her in the sea. She's the rainbow in my sky. The sun to my shine. The ice to my drink. She completes me. I actually let out a little moan when I remember that she hates me.

Could I possibly convince her to like me? Maybe. I think I could, because seriously, I can be charming. Pansy Parkinson—she drools over me. She's like a little puppy, the great kiss-up. I couldn't believe the lengths she'd go to. Tried to kiss my cheek the other day. Said it was a dare, a "disgusting, horribly, enchanting—I mean, disgusting dare". Idiot.

I sit and sketch some Snitches, my wand, and a girl with bright eyes and bushy hair. Her smile is ear to ear. I add someone else: a boy with slick hair and a shy smile. They look so comfortable together, my heart aches. Love is a wrenching thing; full of ups and downs, lefts and rights, curves and shortcuts. You try to make it through alive, and sometimes you do, but it's exhausting and hard and painful. You either die or end up satisfied. I can only hope for option two.

I stare at the now-roaring fire and see the girl and the boy in it, their love burning as brightly and as strong as the fire I view now. They embrace, their lips meet, and as they pull back, the happiness in their eyes unmistakable.

I feel my eyes sting and my nose burn. Why doesn't she want me? I know I've been mean. But snideness can be forgiven, surely! Right? Right?!

I put my head in my hands. Ugh. This passion I have for her _must _be two-sided. Must be…

Must be. Must be. I repeat this over and over until I believe it. MUST BE.

Is.

Is.

Is.

Is.

I'm getting really confident. Hermione does! Otherwise why would she stare at me?

Then I deflate. Who am I kidding? She's uninterested, indifferent, and hostile toward me. I want to crumple. Ugh. Ugh. Ugh. Who am I kidding?

Love can make you believe anything. Any stupid thing. I almost believed that Hermione Jean Granger was in love with me! I almost believed she stared at me! I dreamed she died! I dreamed that we were flying on my broomstick! I close my eyes and let out a small whimper. She doesn't like me. I want to scream in frustration. I'm delusional.

A third year staggers into the chair next to me. I glance at her and notice she's crying.

"What's wrong?" I snap after a few minutes of her tears, annoyed.

"This—never m-mind," she stammers. "It's n-nothing."

"Then quiet down!"

She silences her sobbing and glares at me. "What did I interrupt?" she says coldly. A flicker of surprise must cross my face, because her eyebrows rise. "What did I interrupt?" she repeats, more forcefully.

"I'll tell you if you tell me why in the name of Merlin you're crying like an infant!" I say angrily.

"Okay, fine!" Her eyes are sharp, her blond hair is so light it's almost white, and her skin is so pale it's almost gray. She looks a lot like me. I shake this thought from my head. Whatever!

"I was upset because I asked a guy out and he rejected me. Rudely. I mean, who says 'I could never like a Mudblood, she's ugly and fat, and she's sooo annoying'?" she bursts, her voice quivering slightly. I notice another glistening tear sliding down her cheek. "I'm sorry for disturbing you," she says softly, and I believe her. She's like me. Hopelessly in love with a person who could never love her back. I feel for her. I want to help her. I am not a helper, but I want to assist her in any way. Something about this smallish, skinny, pale girl in front of me feels different, like we're connected or something. I brush yet another "is she my sister" thought from my mind. Idiotic. Dumb. Stupid. All words to describe me.

"Sorry about what—happened to you," I say quickly. "I know what it's like."

Her eyes, so like mine, fix on me. "You do, huh?"

"Yep. I do. So—who was this guy?"

She stares at me, almost like she's daring me to look back. "Why?" she says firmly.

"Hmm?"

"Why do you need to know?" She's a feisty one. Oooh…

"I just want to know!" I say. "If I need to step in, I will."

For the first time, I see her smile. It's shifty, shy, and mischievous—just—like—mine. It's almost freakish.

"You don't even know my name!" she says with a slight laugh. It's low and high, but sad. Like she's not really happy.

"Well, then, what _is _your name?" I say impatiently. I don't even know why I care! I just do! This girl—I feel something between us. Not love. Not "destiny". But—vibes, almost. I can sense them. My senses are on "high".

"My name's Sylver. Sylver Glisens."

"Like the mineral? Silver?"

"You have no idea how many people have said that to me," Sylver says with a sigh. "It gets sooo annoying."

"Most people don't call me Draco. They call me Malfoy. It gets kind of annoying too. I'd rather be Draco than Malfoy."

Her eyes kind of glaze over, like she's not listening. "Oh—_ohhh_." Then she's quiet, thinking. "Yes. I know."

"You know—what?"

"Nothing. I don't know. I don't care." Sylver jumps up and grabs her bag. "Sorry, I gotta go. By the way, the guy's name was Percy—Sonjack, I think. I don't know why you care!" she spits, angry again. "I don't even know you! You're just in my House!" Sylver's really mad. Why? "Stop _looking _at me that way, you idiot! I know what you're thinking." She closes her eyes and wrinkles her nose. "We're not related, dummy. I'd know if we were. And—"

She swings her bag over her shoulder. "—just go talk to that Hermione girl, stupidity master." Sylver leaves, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded.

Just five minutes ago, I was grumpy over Hermione. Now I'm grumpy, awestruck, confused, and feeling weird—like Sylver is still with me, even though she's gone.


	3. Chapter 3

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 3_

**A/N: What's up, my faithful readers? How's your day going? Guess what! Wednesday, Nov. 20****th****, is my 12****th**** birthday! ****! And my friends and I scored some tickets to **_**The Hunger Games: Catching Fire! **_**WOOOOOO! So yeah! Here's Chapter 3! PLEASE submit some reviews for me, I love reading them. But I beg you only to submit kind reviews or constructive criticism. I once got an awful post from someone that still haunts me. Annnnyway, enjoy Chapter 3, kay?**

Chapter 3: Weird Happenings and Guy Problems

Hermione's POV

I take back every single negative thing I ever said about Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown. They are just amazing. Seriously! They always sit by me and tell me jokes and comfort me when I think of Dad, which I don't do as much now because they distract me. I'm really getting over this depression thing!

We've eaten every meal together for the past two weeks now. I have three things to say:

Parvati and Lavender are very smart, very funny, and very nice.

I don't care that Lavender likes Ron.

I've noticed about three different guys staring at me: Dean Thomas, Seamus Finnigan, and—I'm not even really sure about him—Draco Malfoy!

Lavender likes to chirp that Malfoy and I would make an odd, but sweet, couple. She says, quote unquote, that "a Gryffindor and Slytherin couple would defy all odds and show that love is stronger than horrible old feuds".

That girl is apparently an expert on love.

Parvati says that Seamus and I would be adorable together. "I think you guys—the Explosion King and the Queen of the Class—would be just so awesome!" She's dared me to ask him out plenty of times, but I just don't like him like that.

I've told them countless times that I used to like Ron Weasley—I made it very, very clear to Lavender that I didn't anymore—and I just haven't found anyone else.

On the morning of the first day of December, I wake to find Parvati and Lavender chatting away already. They see me sit up and break into smiles.

"Hey, 'Mione!" Lavender says happily, rushing over to give me a hug as soon as my toes skim the ground. "Slept well? Any dreams? About Maaaaalfoy?"

"Shut up, you!" I giggle, while Parvati shrieks with laughter. "No, seriously!" I try to put on a straight face, but the sight of me sends Parvati into an even wilder fit of laughter. "Okay, okay. I dreamed about—I think Quidditch."

"Is it because Malfoy's the new Slytherin Captain?" Parvati squeaks, still hiccupping."

"He is?" I say casually. Somehow I know this. Why did I dream about it?

"Yup! And you dreeeaaamed about it!" Lavender says playfully, poking my nose. I just shake my head, laughing. These girls are just perfect. We have so much fun together.

Our old dormitory roommate got expelled yesterday—she had to return home for a day and used magic—so we're a three person dormitory. It's been a party. Every night we stay up, whispering and gossiping and trying to keep our huge fits of laughter contained. It's like a sleepover—every single night with my best friends in the world.

And Lavender and Parvati have told me this at least ten thousand times. Every day, they whisper to me in class, at lunch, wherever: "You're the best, Hermione. I'm so lucky to be your friend." And I reply: "I'm the lucky one. You're amazing." Then we smile at each other and do a quick hug.

We pull on our school robes and head for the common room.

"So," Lavender says to me and Parvati on the way to three best armchairs—always occupied by us, now. "I have to tell you guys something." She gives a nervous giggle. "Ron Weasley and I are dating!"

Parvati and I instantly go into fits of delight. "Congrats, Lav!" I squeal, taking her hand and dancing around in my chair.

Lavender looks at me, evidently nervous. "You're not mad?"

"Why in the world would I be mad? I told you—my feelings for Ron and done and over! He's still nice, though! Great job, scoring him! When did this happen? Tell us everything!"

"Okay, okay, Hyper McSparky," Lavender chuckles. Parvati's simply frantic, bouncing off the walls and shouting, "LAVENDER'S GOT A BOOOOYFRIEND! LAVENDER'S GOT A BOOOOYFRIEND!"

"I will, Parvati Patil, when you shut up!"

Parvati quiets.

"Okay, so I was walking to Trans when Ron came up behind me. He kind of laughed and said, 'Do you want to go out with me?' Naturally I said yes, I've had a crush on him for ages. Then he ran back to Harry Potter, who was standing behind him, and yelled 'I did it! I did it!'". She beams. "It was amazing!" Lavender throws out her arms and falls back into the chair, sighing.

I clap. "It sounds amazing. I wish some guy would do that to me."

Lavender springs up. "Idea! Idea!"

"Same one! Same one!" Parvati shrieks. They put their heads together for a moment, and then turn to me, grinning.

"So, we were just thinking—"

"—What if Malfoy did ask you out—"

"—And then we realized—"

"—We could set you guys up; you know, matchmaker style—"

"—Or make him jealous, so we could prove he likes you—"

"—What do you think?!" Parvati finishes, breathless.

"I think you guys are crazy. But I'll let you do the jealous part, since you won't stop bugging me!" I let out a slight "hee". That sends Lavender into a rampage.

"Who do you want us to pair you up with? In fact, just flirt with a guy in front of him. He'll get jealous—I swear. Or should we set you up? With—ohhh, how about Ernie Macmillan or even Fred Weasley?"

"NO!" I scream, giggling, at both. "Do someone who we could clue in but wouldn't tell. Fred—he'd tell Ron for sure."

"Right, right...um…how about…"

"Raven KuhLaw?" Parvati suggests.

"Who's that?" I ask, bemused.

"Some sixth year in Ravenclaw. Padma says he's cute." Parvati shrugs. "She says he's trustworthy, too. Worth a shot."

"Okay, whatever." I crack open my Herbology book and study _Northeastern Healing Plants_. "Pick Raven KuhLaw or whatever his name is. As long as he's cute."

"You _can_ be a girl! You used to always be so 'schoolwork is cool' and 'no giggling'. Rah!" Parvati makes dinosaur sounds.

"Hey, from hangin' out with y'all, I thank I've learned a load," I say, country-style. Lavender laughs. Parvati grins.

"You're awesome, Hermione," they say in unison. "The best friend we could ever—ever—have."

I hug them so tightly I think they might've slightly suffocated.

Draco's POV

Over the past few weeks, I've noticed that a) Hermione isn't dull anymore, b) she's been hanging out with Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, and c) Sylver seems to be glancing at me all the time.

Strange that Hermione's picked new best friends. I've wondered if maybe Ron and Harry did something to offend her, and that's why she was always so sad. If so, _**I'm going to kill them. **_They h-hurt her. They took away her sh-shine. That's—that's—

I run my hands through my hair. My eyes burn. I realize I'm about to cry—for Hermione. For her. Anger courses through me. How can she _not_ love me? How? How? My cheek is wet. Ugh. I wish I could stop, but I can't. She _has _**to love me! She just **_has _to! More tears. I cry over things like this very easily. My father says it's in every pureblood's blood. Every last one. I told him that it wasn't in my blood: after all, sensitivity is a blemish, and pureblood's blood is perfect, down to the last millionth of a cell. But I knew he was right.

I'm silently sobbing. This desire—for her to be mine—I need to satisfy it soon. This fire inside of me is licking my heart, crumbling it to ashes, taking it over. I can't stand it! I can't.

Finally, an idea. A plan. A flawless plan. It might take a day, it might take a year. Hopefully a day.

The first step is to talk to her, be nicer around her—but not too nice. That'd look suspicious.

The next step is to get close to her. Hang out with her, study with her, partner with her for Herbology.

The third step is to drop hints I like her. Little things: holding her hand, looking into her eyes, holding a smile for a beat too long.

The last step is to tell her I like her—but in an amazing way, with balloons or flowers or a big surprise like a beautiful necklace engraved with "Mione" or something.

I smile to myself, my eyes still overflowing with tears. Part of me thinks it's impossible. Other parts think it's completely doable.

The common room portrait—a snake, coiled around a branch—swings open. In steps Sylver. She catches my eye and hurries off. I catch a gleam of something golden: a band of gold, wrapped around her wrist. It seems strange, since her name is Sylver, that she's wearing gold. Eh, who cares? She's a dumb, little third-year. But I can't shake the "are we related" thoughts that float past my mind when I'm not thinking of Hermione. I barely stand it. I've been trying to convince myself that she's nobody, just a girl who looks a bit like me. It's so stupid, so weird, that I honestly think I might be losing my mind.

I stand up from the chair I've been wedged in for awhile, thinking. I do this a lot now.

_ Ask her out._

I jerk back, looking around wildly. Then I rub my eyes and massage my head. No, no—it's not possible.

_Just do it, dummy._

My heart races. There it is again. I check around, from behind the couch and in between two long coffee tables. Sylver's not here. So why do I hear her voice?

_Because you do. Idiot._

I rest my head. I'm going insane. That's what it is. First those sister thoughts, now this.

_Night, Draco._

I feel sick. Why? Why is Sylver inside my head? I want to jump up and find her and shake her.

_Whoa—don't. Seriously. I'll kill you. Now—go to bed._

I hit my forehead with my fist. OUT! GET OUT! I think with all my might. SYLVER GLISENS! GET OUT! I don't know how she can do this—get into my head—but she's in it, and I have to accept that.

_Yeah, you're right. _

_ I thought you were going to bed,_ I think snidely.

I don't expect the next answer.

_I thought you wanted me out._

_ Yes, well—how are you doing this?_

_ I'm a special kind of witch. A Thought-Reader. Duh. Didn't Binns teach you this in like, second year?_

I rack my brains for any mention of a Thought-Reader, but I find nothing.

_Yeah, you don't remember,_ Sylver says—thinks?—with a laugh. Wait, how am I hearing her laugh?

_Because I'm thinking of laughing in my head! I thought you caught onto this! Jeez, you're slow._

_ Why are you in my head? _I actually think it with four question marks.

_I don't know. Something drew me to you. Like—a calling, almost. I can usually only read people's thoughts when I want to. But I could hear yours, loud and clear, in the common room a few weeks ago. _

_ AUGH! HOW?!_

_ I don't know! I've been trying to figure it out myself!_

I remember the strange feeling I get around Sylver. Not love—

_Ew! Ew ew ew ew ew ew EW!_

_ Shut up for a moment! I'm thinking._

_ No, really? Because I'm not listening right now. Jeez, how dumb are you?_

I felt weird, like buzzing with nerves around her the first time. Whenever she glanced at me, it was like a tiny shock. Almost undetectable, but there. The first time her hand brushed my robe, I nearly leapt out of my skin. It felt like being touched by harmless, but striking, lightning.

_Ohmigosh, Draco, I felt the same! Except not lighting. More like—freezing cold metal. Solid, firm, and icy._

_ I know you did._

_ How? _

How indeed? I guess I just did.

_Oh. Yeah. Me too, then._

_ Sylver—were you really crying over a third-year?_

I can practically hear her blush. _No. I was crying because of something else._

_ What? _I know she's thinking of it, but how come _I _can't hear that when she can hear me thinking of Hermione, even when I don't want her to know? I guess only when she's thinking of sending her thoughts to me, I can hear them. Confusing.

_Wow. You're actually right about that._

_ Shut up._

_ Oh yeah? So who's this Hermione Granger, the one you love? And cry over?_

I leap to my feet and think with all my might, _SHUT UP!_

And then I hear silence. She's gone. I feel it. When she's in my head, it's like a little gnat, flitting in my ear. It's amazing, but odd and even scary. I'll have to be careful of what I dream, wonder, and think about. I whip my Astronomy textbook out and begin to study the relations of Neptune and Mars. Then, after I'm done studying, I go down to the library and work on my Divination homework. Finally I make a round to the boy's dormitory, grab my Nimbus 2001, and fly for an hour and a half. It's warm for February and I don't need my winter coat, so I throw on a spring windbreaker and zoom around on my broom until I can't hear anything from the wind rushing in my ears. It's nice, being able to block everything else out and just think. That's been my problem: distractions. Sylver, Hermione, schoolwork—distractions. But this—this is perfect.

Not for long.

The little gnat is humming in my ear again.

_ Sorry. _

_ For what?_ I think nastily.

_Bringing up a sore subject._

_ Whatever._

_ Seriously. I know what it's like._

_ That's what I said to you earlier._

_ I know. And—you don't have to be careful about your thoughts. I can keep a secret. I keep—many._

The gnat is gone.

Hermione's POV

"Mione! Mione!" Lavender runs up to me and flings an arm around my shoulder. "Draco likes you! I swear! Crabbe and Goyle were talking about it in the Slytherin common room, apparently, and then Ernie heard it in the library from a tear-sodden Pansy Parkinson and then Padma Patil heard it from Hannah Abbott and then Padma told Parvati! I swear to God he loves you!"

"Really?" I say, blushing. The truth is—I like him too. A lot. His gray eyes, his blond hair—the way he calls me Mudblood—I think I really might love him. It took me awhile to sort out my feelings about him, especially with the whole "liking Ron" thing. Lavender eliminated _that_ for me. I silently thank her. But even so, I'm not sure how much Ron and Harry will enjoy the fact that we crush on each other.

"Seriously!" Lavender shrieks. We jump around, squealing, and then Parvati joins us. We scream some more.

"Wait, wait, wait," Parvati says with a sly smile. "Why are you so happy?"

Giggling, I confide in them everything. Then I wonder if the old Hermione, the smarty-pants tomboy, is disappearing. I vow to from now on be more like Hermione #1.

"Hey guys—just so you know—I'm going to be the smart girl who raises her hand in class and isn't afraid to get her hands dirty, again, okay?" I say to them.

Parvati and Lavender look at each other and break into smiles. "I always admired that Hermione," Lavender says fondly.

"Same here," agrees a cheerful Parvati. We walk downstairs to lunch, arm in arm.

At lunch, over a heaping pile of rotini noodles smothered in meat sauce, tomato soup, garlic bread, and french fries, Lavender, Parvati and I discuss our thoughts on Draco.

"I used to loathe him," I say around a mouthful of noodles. "Because he was always so rude to Harry, Ron and I. But—over the last year, I think, I started noticing him. His breathtaking gray eyes, his deep laugh, his sly smile…I really started loving him." I sigh into my soup. "Draco's funny, mysterious, and handsome. He's so—perfect."

"I never really liked him," Parvati says. "But I could see past it. Since you're my best friend and all. The thing is, he's kind of—rude, like you said. If he's ever—_ever_—rude to you, tell us and we'll grind him into sausage!" She makes a fist and crumples her garlic bread.

"Calm down, Par. It's okay. How about this: if he's rude to me three times, he's out."

"If he breaks your heart—"

"—then I'll come to you straightaway and we can all badmouth him together," I say tiredly with a wave of my hand.

"Well, I always thought Draco was a bit—eh—iffy. Because he was mean, you know? But he could fly, alright. I definitely admired that, but I guess I never was all Pansy Parkinson on him."

"Oh, crap!" I say. "I forgot to grab my bookbag. I was planning to run to the library before next class."

"I'll come and grab it with you," says Parvati, pushing her plate away.

"It's okay. I'll be right back." I jump up, run out of the Hall, and am on my way when I'm stopped by two, sixth year boys. One is tall and gangly, the other one skinny and adorned with glasses. Bright green and piercing blue eyes meet mine. The scar-decorated one smiles nervously at me. The redhead crosses his arms.

"Hello," I say brightly, trying to keep the awkwardness from severity.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry says rather loudly. He's obviously on edge. "What's up?"

"Nothing," I reply.

"I expect 'nothings' are in the Great Hall, waiting for you," Ron snaps.

"Ron, just because I'm making new friends—"

"You're replacing your old ones!" he shouts, stomping his foot. "You've gotten rid of us!"

"N-no! I've just been coping, okay?" I yell. "With—with—ah! You put all this pressure on me to always hang out with you, all the time, every day!"

"Really? Because you haven't hung out with us in a single day. For over two weeks." Ron's ears are tomato-red. My fingers dig into my palms.

"It's nothing personal."

"Nothing personal? My best friend abandoned me. My other best friend tried everything to cheer me up, to plan to get you back with us. But he couldn't. And I appreciated the fact that he _tried_!" Ron screams.

"Oh yeah? Well I would've appreciated my two friends actually comforting me after my dad died!" I cry, erupting into sobs. "He's dead, died two months ago, and you two only said 'I'm sorry' to me! I sunk into depression! You never said a single word about him! I needed support! I was holding myself together! By myself!" I scream.

Ron falls silent. Harry pipes up.

"Hermione," he says quietly. I realize how brilliant his green eyes are. I think he's put some kind of eye-brightening charm on them until I see they're wet, like mine. "I'm really, really sorry. I should've helped you. I wouldn't expect you to forgive me." A single teardrop rolls down his cheek. I step forward and wipe it away.

"Harry—don't cry. Please. I do forgive you. I love you." I step forward once more and kiss his lips gently. It is not a sign of passionate love; it is a sign of sisterly love. He must understand this, because when I pull away from our short embrace, he hugs me tightly and whispers, "Thanks, Mione." We have always had this special relationship. Sibling-like.

I notice Ron biting his lip. "I'm sorry too," he bursts out. "I should've noticed something was wrong."

"Thanks," I say softly. We stand there for a few moments before I realize he wants a kiss too. But I can't. Things are too complicated between us, what with our row just now and him not noticing my depression. At least Harry gave me a heartfelt, tear-springing, meaningful apology. He told me "sorry for not being aware of you," basically.

Then I jump slightly: Lavender would be crushed. I vow not ever to tell her.

"Where are you going?" Harry asks a slight smile on his face.

"To get my bookbag." I indicate my empty shoulder. "Listen, guys—I'm going to try really hard to hang out with you more. How about it's your turn with me Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays?"

"Okay," Harry says. "And Lavender and Parvati on Tuesdays, Thursdays and the weekends?"

"Yes. I do hope they agree."

Agree they did. They said that they didn't want to sever any bonds between my friends and I, and they'd be more than happy if I hung out with Ron and Harry.

"Thanks, girls. You're the best!" I said happily, hugging both of them tightly. "I'm so sorry to do this to you. But I can't forget Harry and Ron."

"We know!"

"And—um—my first kiss was kind of with Harry Potter."

Their reactions are immediate. "NO WAY!" Lavender squeals. "NO FREAKIN' WAY!"

"EEEEE! Do you looooove him?" Parvati screams.

"No, no! It was a sister kiss! Just a short, two-second, sweet kiss. Although, if Draco and I don't work out, I guess I have a backup, don't I?"

"Ohmigosh, I can't believe you kissed him!" Lavender yells.

"Shush!" I say. But I jump around with them anyway.

Life is good.


	4. Chapter 4

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 4_

**A/N: What's up, guys? So Wednesday was my birthday. I'm officially twelve! ****! Catching Fire in 2 days! Woo-hoo! Sorry that last chapter took awhile. It was long. Enjoy Ch. 4!**

Chapter 1: Soaring on Angel's Wings

Draco's POV

_It's now or never. _Sylver's voice echoes through my mind. _The new addition to Hogwarts: The Valentine's Day Ball._

_ I know,_ I think heavily, my nerves buzzing. _I just can't bring myself to. Not after her kiss._

_ Oh, you know she didn't mean that. I caught her staring at you at lunch. Then once you turned, she blushed red and turned to Patil. She likes you._

_ But she kissed Harry! I saw it with my own eyes._

I remember strolling through the hallways. I heard yelling. Hermione and Weasley. I instantly started running. But I only arrived to see Hermione kiss Harry. It crushed me. I turned right around and instead of crying (which I barely fought off) I took my anger out on a stray table, snapping it to pieces.

_Yeah. Why'd you break it? That was dumb._

_ If I had a nickel for every time you said that,_ I think wearily.

_You wouldn't be very rich. You'd probably have, eh, a buck seventy-five. _

_ That's—I don't know how many nickels, okay? Just leave me alone._

_ Hmm? Why? _She sounds genuinely surprised.

_ Please. I need some space. Don't you ever have better things to do? _She must. She must have friends ready to do _something_ with her.

_ Not really. My friends are all out in detention. I'm bored._

_ Got any homework? _I ask desperately.

_ Nope. Finished it._

_ Now you have some. Go to Professor Sprout and talk to her about Fitzgibbon Frog Fruits if you have to! _I snap.

_ Fine. I'll be back—I need to talk to you. In person._

_ Whatever, whatever. _I'm tired and need to think alone, without another person viewing my thoughts.

The little buzzing in my ear silences. Okay. Sylver's gone. Now, for these important things.

I write down everything wonderful about Hermione. The list looks like this:

Wonderful Things about Hermione Granger

She's really smart

She's gorgeous

She's friendly (most of the time)

She loves the library

She's radiant almost all the time

She's just plain breathtaking

She's perfect

She doesn't try to be better than anyone else

She's an amazing singer

She's an angel

I smile as I finish the list. Hmm. Then I make another list:

Things I wish Hermione Granger Thought About

Draco Malfoy

Me

Myself

I

Our romance

I laugh again. This is really quite fun. But another cloud blots out my moment of sun. One last, heart-wrenching list.

Things I wish Hermione Granger had never done

Kissed Harry Potter

Become friends with Harry Potter or Ron Weasley

Got Sorted into Gryffindor

Kissed Harry Potter

Been rude to me, ever

Gotten depressed

Been so CONFUSING

KISSED HARRY POTTER

There. Done.

I review all these things. Ultimately, she's amazing. There's just the slight blemish of a) kissing Harry Potter, b) being friends with Potty and the Weasel, and c) possibly hating me. But if Sylver's right, then she's been staring at me. And that could be good—or bad.  
Running my hands through my hair, I get up and walk around, relieving the tension. I go for a lap on my Nimbus. I study my Transfiguration, I run around on the grounds, feeling the cool, calm wind on my face and the clear, clean air in my lungs. It's so amazing. Just—this freedom.

Inside the castle again, just before dinner in what we call the Lounge Room (a room where all Houses can converge and talk), I talk to my new best friend, Joshua, who plays Quidditch and is about my height (and length). I met him a few days ago. We've hit it off: he's mean, rude, and snide, like me. He talks just about the same as I do. He's got a mad crush on a Gryffindor girl, like me (Angelina Johnson).

"So, asked her out to the dance yet?" I ask him, quirking my eyebrows.

"Just about to ask you that," he replies smoothly, retying his shoelace. "I guess we're both loners. Wanna go as friends? And observe them and their dates?"

"Nah. Too depressing. Hermione's probably going with _Potty _anyway." I cross my arms and squint at the ground, feeling my cheeks flush.

"And Angelina looks preoccupied with Weasel #1," Joshua oversees, a nasty edge to his voice. I follow his gaze to see Johnson and Fred Weasley, laughing at a joke, alone on the sofa.

"Oh God. I guess you're right." I sigh. "I was kinda looking forward to this. Dancing with her, talking with her, having a good time with her. The weird thing is, if she hadn't kissed Potty, I would've marched right up to her and asked her—no, told her—to dance with me."

Joshua grunts and shrugs, still glaring at Weasel #1. Ron's the Weasel King, Fred's #1, George's #2, and Percy's Weak Flame. Johnson and #1 are awfully close now, their shoulders touching and their hands linked.

"I'm leaving. Dinner," Joshua says simply, storming into the now-filling Great Hall. I think of running after him, and then decide not to. I'll let him cool down. He's not tolerable in a rage.

I sit, reading _Quidditch Tips and Tricks: Volume 111: Snitches and Witches_ for awhile. Then, when I start hearing wizards calling out their orders, I get up and sit at the Slytherin table, next to Joshua, who's moodily stabbing at a potato.

"Hey. You alright?" I ask, nudging him with my fork. He jumps a little, and then nods gruffly.

"She's just a stupid Gryffindor." His eyes are glinting mercilessly. "Can't believe I ever loved her."

"I know. It's tough." I stare down at my plate. What to order? What do I want most?

_Hermione Granger_ is the first thing that pops into my head. Instantaneously, a spectacular dinner of roast carrots, t-bone medium rare steak, cream of mushroom soup, and mashed potatoes pile themselves on my plate.

The Slytherin table is the first in the Great Hall: it's at the very front, followed by Ravenclaw, followed by Hufflepuff, and ended with Gryffindor. So, to get to the Gryffindor table, you have to pass the Slytherin table.

I'm so angry and heartbroken I hardly notice the smell.

Warm blueberries and sea air.

Hermione.

"Oh my gosh, that's my favorite dinner, Draco!" she says, pleased. "How did you know that's what I'm ordering tonight?"

"I didn't. Is it a coincidence that this is my favorite dinner too?" I say with a sly smile. She grins back, her face radiant.

"Well, that's just luck. Fate, you could say. I better go. Enjoy our favorite dinner!" She touches my shoulder for a moment, smiles, and leaves.

I stare after her. She—she acted exactly like she loved me. Warm blueberries and sea air. It's a wonderful combination. Like—a summer day. Summer. That's what she's like. Dims for awhile then roars back to life. She was pretty much glowing when I told her it was we shared a taste for the same meal.

Joshua snorts into his asparagus. "You're sure over her."

"Shut up. Maybe I shouldn't give up on this whole Valentine's Day dance already." I'm halfway out of my seat to go ask her when Joshua pulls me down.

"No, dude. Not yet. At night. Ask her to walk with you. Bewitch candles. Bring cider. Under the moonbeams, question her about the dance."

"You are a genius!" I say, very happy. I start on the delicious heaping plate in front of me. It tastes amazing. But the dessert is even better—piping hot blueberry pie, a la mode. It tastes like Hermione smells, if that makes sense.

I finish my dinner, still feeling her gentle touch right near my collarbone. It's warm and sweet and comforting. Maybe Sylver was right. Maybe she doesn't adore Harry like I thought she did. Maybe it was a friendly kiss.

"It was." A golden bangle glints, straight in my face. Sylver's standing in front of me, her hair windswept and a wildish look in her eye. "I heard her talking to Brown about it."

"Oh—thank you for that information," I say, smiling at the girl in front of me. She doesn't flash one back at me. The only flashing thing is her bracelet, which still puzzles me.

To break the awkward silence between us, I ask a question. "Is Thought-Reading like Occlumency?"

Her face relaxes, and she smoothes her hair. "Well, in a way. A mind can't be read like a book can. You can't just open it up. See, Thought-Breaking is so rare; I think when you're born you have a one in a billion chance of obtaining it. It's also dangerous. Thoughts are terrifying and mysterious things, because they can be anything. For example," she says, glancing at Joshua, who's glowering at #1. Her eyes mist over; she curls her fingers around her bracelet, and then focuses. "He's thinking some words I probably shouldn't say right now."

"Oh."

"So Thought-Reading only happens if I concentrate on my target. Do I want to read his thoughts or send him a message? Do I want to view his memories or experience his dream? It's all dependant on this," Sylver says wisely, tapping her temple. "So yes and no. I can read thoughts or live them whenever I want, but it comes with a price."

"Yeah—I'm always thinking about you. Well—you know," I say, flustered. "I can feel you in my head. It's like a little fly, buzzing in my ear. But you told me that you keep lots of secrets."

"When you can find out what someone's really thinking on the inside, you don't have much of a choice," Sylver says softly. I see that she's visibly shaken up. I guess that she's found out many, many things about herself, her friends, and just things she shouldn't know in general. "But, of course, I have to protect my own."

This makes me wonder. Sylver's always been extremely mysterious. Ever since I stumbled upon her power. This thought tugs at another corner of my brain: why _did_ she reveal it to me?

"I don't know. I felt this little connection to you. Like an invisible rope, pulling me toward you. Like you're my brother."

"Same. I had to resist 'Sylver is your sister' thoughts all the time." I scratch my nose. "It's really weird."

"Yeah. It is. But—"

Sylver gets up from her chair and saunters over to the door, her hair hanging over one eye. All I see is that one gray eye, sparkling and stormy.

"—it's also normal."

She's gone.

Why is she like this?

Hermione's POV

Oh.

My.

God.

He has the same favorite meal as me! I twirl around in the dormitory, holding my book to my chest. My cheeks are red and my eyes are shining.

"Listen. It's now or never. If you want to ask him out to the dance, you better do it now," Lavender says. "I'm going with Ron and Parvati's going with Jack Gorge, who's in Ravenclaw sixth year. He's really cute."

"_Really_ cute!" Parvati chimes.

"I know. But right now, I have to study. I'll be at the library if you need me." I hoist my bag over my shoulder and step out of the room.

The library's warm and lit by numerous fireplaces. I cuddle up in an armchair with my Charms book.

Someone sits next to me. It's Ron.

"Hey Mione. Wassup?" he says with a chuckle.

I laugh. "Lavender, hmm?"

"Yeah. She's cute and nice. That's all you need." He laughs a bit abruptly and stares at me a little. "All you need."

"Um—yes. So—listen, Ron. I need to know something." I bite my lip. How to say this without giving anything away? "How would you feel if I went out with a Slytherin? You and Harry?"

"Well, we'd have to meet him first."

"Say you've already met him," I say quickly. He squints at me.

"Uh. Okay."

"Say that you've had a rough couple years around him."

"Who is it?" he demands.

"You'll see at the Valentine's Dance," I say teasingly, trying to crack the tension. "I don't even know why I'm here. I mustn't wait too long. He's got amazing looks. Just—don't get upset when you meet him, please? Please?"

"You got my word. And Harry's. I'll make him promise. Why'd you kiss him?" he asks suddenly.

"Because he was so miserable. I know what that's like. So I kissed him sisterly, to make him feel better."

"Why didn't you kiss me?"

"You weren't depressed!" I say crossly. "You didn't really care. Why does it matter?"

"Because you like him much more than me! You're in love with him! Why didn't you _tell_ me?" His ears are red and his lips are pressed together.

"I am not! I just told you I'm asking Dra—I mean, a Slytherin to the dance!"

"Oh, whatever. I'll get Harry to tell me the truth. Go off and kiss another guy or whatever you do. Little sneak."

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" I shout, ignoring the dirty looks I receive. "I am not a player. I swear on my life that I am not in love with Potter!"

I turn on my heel and rocket out of the library. Raging, I brush my hair out of my face. I'm so mad and heartbroken that I hardly notice the scent.

Gingerbread and mint.

Draco.

"Fancy running into you here," he says, smiling.

I blush madly. It's so hard to keep from bursting that I love him. "What a coincidence. We have the same favorite meal and we run into each other. You'd think we're dating!" I clamp my mouth shut and hiss between my teeth. Crap. I just—basically—admitted my feelings to him!

"You'd think we were," he agrees with a raise of an eyebrow. "Listen, Hermione. I know we've had a rough past—the whole 'Mudblood' phase and you slapping me—but could we put that behind us? And become friends?"

_Maybe even more maybe even more…_

"Of course, Draco," I say smoothly. "Why not?"

"And—just one more thing."

He leans in and whispers, "Will you be my date to the Valentine's Day dance?"

I smile, trying to keep from screaming yes over and over. "Oh, yes, I'd love to."

He straightens, grins, and brushes his hair out of his eyes. "Perfect. You see, I've admired you for ages. Ages. You're just—amazing. Pretty, incredibly intelligent, and the fiercest person I know."

I blush even redder. "I've only started loving you. But I became obsessed a few weeks ago. You're sly, shy, and handsome. I can't believe you never figured it out."

"I did. With some help." Draco fidgets. "Just one thing—I saw the kiss."

I jerk back. "You did? Oh no. I'm so sorry. Harry was so miserable and I knew what it was like, so I just—sibling like—kissed him for a moment. I swear I don't love him."

He studies me for a second, and then smiles. "Okay. I believe you."

"You do? Thank goodness." I lean back in. Mint and gingerbread.

Draco's POV

Warm blueberries and sea air.

It blasts me as she leans in, closer and closer, until our lips touch. It's warm and cozy and sweet and slow. I kiss her and kiss her and kiss her until I'm satisfied. Then we break away and she smiles.

"See you." She turns and walks away.

"See you!" I smile and turn around. Happy. Purely happy.

Until I hear the scream.


	5. Chapter 5

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 5_

**A/N: Hey guys! I got my first review for Gray Into Brown—and I checked my traffic page to see how many views I had received—oh my gosh. I got nearly a hundred views for Chapter 3. You guys rock! And I'm so sorry about that wait on the last chapter. I originally had Sylver falling into the lake but omitted that. So yeah. Here's Ch. 5! DISCLAIMER: I don't own Safe and Sound by Taylor Swift.**

Chapter 5: Screaming and Singing

Draco's POV

The scream rattles my bones, numbs my brain, and curls around my heart. It makes me angry and terrified and sends adrenaline through my veins. I have to get to her—reach her—Sylver!

"MOM! DAD! NO!" It's coming from the girls' dorm. "NO! COME BACK!"

"Sylver! Sylver, what's wrong?" I yell, starting up the stairs. They flatten and I slide down them, bumping my head but not feeling it. "Sylver! SYLVER!"

I can't get up to her. I scramble up, but water cascades down the chute and I slip and fall. I hear girls screaming and retching, and I know it's getting serious.

_SYLVER. _I think it with all my might, with every ounce of strength I can muster. _TALK TO ME. _

There's a siren wailing in my ear. She's here, and she's focusing really hard.

_MOMDADNOCOMEBACKSHELIANOCOMEBACK_

_ Sylver. Sylver, it's me. It's Draco. You're okay. You're safe._

_ TRAITORLETSHELIAGOMOMMYDADDYCOMEBACKPLEASE_

_ It's Draco. Draco Malfoy. I'm here. You're in the Slytherin girls' dorm. It's okay. You're okay!_

_ STUCKOWHELPHELPMOMDADPLEASENOSHELIA_

She's not letting up. _Get to her get to her get to her_ is all my mind forms. I'm trying to stay calm and talk to her at the same time but I can't. The screeching in my ear that sounds like tires, and then sobbing, sobbing…

"LET ME IN!" I yell up. The girls up the stairs respond, and the responses are varied.

"No way!" "Fine, fine!" "YES COME UP PLEASE!" "Go get help!"

A frazzled-looking third year girl with brown eyes and thin eyebrows slides down. "I'll tell you later, Sylver's brother."

I brush this aside. "No. Tell me now!"

She shakes her head, taking off. "Gotta go get help. Ally and I will fill you in later. If we're not around, ask for Eleanor." She turns a corner and runs off, yelling "OUT OF THE WAY! PSHYCO GIRL ON THE LOOSE! HELP! HELP!"

I'm about to tear after her, to find out answers, when two more girls slide down—one with blond hair and one with indigo-colored hair. They both stare at me. "We're lookout."

I practically scream, "WHO'S UP THERE WITH HER?"

"Nobody. We're letting her calm down."

"CALM DOWN—?"

"She's getting riled up at the sight of us. She's screaming for her parents, for some girl named Shelia, and for a boy—"Draco". Do you know him?" They both sound out of breath and worried. Sylver's friends, I presume.

"I'M DRACO! THAT'S ME! LET ME UP!" I cry, seething with anger. "WHAT THE HECK?"

"Can't. Not allowed, Loud Boy. Draco, just breathe. She'll be fine. Just a nightmare." The blond one is sobbing, trying to speak through her tears.

"She j-just started scr-screaming," she hiccups. "I d-didn't know wh-what to do! It was s-so sc-scary." She starts crying again. "I'm s-so s-sorry, D-Draco. You r-really care about S-Sylver."

I do! Do they not get that! Seriously! I need to freaking see her! JEEZ!

"Let me up," I beg. "Please!"

"Okay, fine!" The redhead says, glancing over her shoulder. "Don't tell anyone you were in—"

"Press the stinking button!" I don't usually talk like this. Mum taught me it was impolite to use such language, so I never really did.

"C-cover him," the blond says. My eyes are covered by two sweaty, soap-scented hands. Small and pale, they quiver.

"Necessary precaution," the redhead explains. "I'm Ally. That's Georgia. The one you talked to is Eleanor. We're in Sylver's dorm. We're her best friends. Sorry this happened."

"LET ME UP ALREADY!"

The _click_ of a button I don't hear because of the ringing in my ears. The stairs reform and my eyes are uncovered. I run up them three at a time.

I let the door open with a BANG. Sylver's still silently crying, whispering "mother father shelia all gone no more oh no". She sounds like a little child.

Why do I care? Maybe because of the connection: the siblinglike connection. Like she really is my little sister. Maybe because I know her darkest secret. Maybe because she already knows all of mine. I don't know why. I just care.

"Sylver," I murmur. "Sylver it's okay. I'm here. It's Draco."

Her hands are icy as they close around my wrist. "no help hurt mom dad not moving oh please shelia taken they know they know going to kill me". Her lips are bluish and her face is ashen.

"Sylver," I say through trembling lips. "Honey, it's okay." That's the first time I've ever called anyone "honey" but it seems right.

Siren in my ear siren in my ear OW.

_LKAJSDLFKJASKJFALSJDFALSJDFLJASDLKAJLKSJFLAJDS_

Random thoughts, over and over, the siren screaming in my ears. I smell blood and taste blood and feel blood even though I'm still next to Sylver. Someone shouts, "LITTLE GIRL, THEY'RE ALL GONE. IT'S JUST YOU AND ME NOW! YOU'LL PAY FOR ALL THE TROUBLE YOU'VE CAUSED ME! HA-HA-HA!"

"Wha—?" My body goes rigid, like someone's put a Full-Body Bind Curse on it. I force myself to draw my wand and stand protectively over Sylver. "AV—AD—A KED—AV—RA!" I say through stiff lips. Nothing. My wand clatters to the ground as cruel laughter fills the room. My hand is trembling, but I can't feel it. I can't breathe. A burst of green light—

Sylver sits straight up, gasping like a fish out of water. "D-D-Draco," she mumbles, white as a sheet and shaking. "D-D-Draco."

"Hey," I say, retching. My throat feels rubbery and I'm in shock. "Wh-wh-what's up?"

She wraps her arms around me and cries. I hold her tightly, whispering "it's okay, Syl. It's all okay."

"D-D-Drac-c-co, I'm s-s-so s-s-sorry. I was th-th-thinking of y-y-you when I h-h-had my v-v-vision." Sylver shakes her head, her blond hair in a ring around her head. Her lips have turned slightly pinkish and her fingers are uncurling. She moves her hand and I see that she's drawn blood from driving them into her palm. Her wand is golden. I furrow my brow. What's up with Sylver and gold stuff?

"Hey Sylver. It's okay. What did you have a nightmare about?"

She gazes up at me through glassy eyes. "You'll s-see. I'm going to sh-show you tonight, ok-kay? B-brace yourself, because I—I'm showing you the horrible part tomorrow n-night."

She kisses my cheek gently. "Thank you for c-coming to help me." I smile at her encouragingly.

"No problem, Syl. For you, I would've taken an _avada kedavra_ to the heart."

I stand up and whisper in her ear, "If anything ever happens again, I'm here for you." Then I walk out of the dorm and into the Lounge Room.

Hermione's POV

Lavender and I break into the chorus.

"_Just close your eyes, the sun is going down_

_You'll be alright; no one can hurt you now_

_Come morning light,_

_You and I'll be safe_

_And_

_Souuuund."_

Parvati applauds. "Nice job, guys! You'll win the first annual Hogwarts Talent Time talent show for sure!"

Lavender turns to me. "Are you sure you don't want to do one about Draco? You still can."

I shrug. "Sure. It'll be awesome! I really want to be a loving and caring girlfriend, you know?"

"Okay. Don't hate me but I kinda wanted to do this one by myself anyway." She smiles.

"No problem. I'm off to the library. I'm going to try and think of a new song—a good love song."

"Here!" Parvati says, throwing me a piece of parchment. "I made a list."

"You're nuts," I say with a laugh. "Thanks. I'll be back before nine."

I clutch the parchment and head to the library. On the way there, I stop at the Lounge Room to say hi to Draco.

"Hey, Mione," he says, sounding dazed. "You look beautiful as always."

"What's wrong, Draco?" I say, concerned. I touch his forehead. "You're boiling! Go to Madam Pomfrey, you idiot!"

"No, it's okay." He kisses me. I jerk back.

"Stop. You're sick and I don't want to be sick too."

"Sorry. Just—just kind of—confused." He shakes his head. "See you, gorgeous." He blows me a kiss, which I return.

Then I lean in and whisper, "Meet me by the lake at midnight—if you feel any better." I give him a long, proper kiss this time, breathing him in. Gingerbread and mint. We kiss for a long time, me grasping for more. Finally, I break away, only to instantly want to dive back in. But he shakes his head.  
"At midnight, we can kiss all you want." Then he leaves.

I wonder what's making him act so weird. It's strange, he's usually so collected.

I settle down on a cushion near the fire in the library. I unfold the list Parvati made me and read. Most of them are cheesy, country fake-love songs, but one catches my eye.

_More by Parvati Patil_

I scan the lyrics and instantly love them.

_It's four a.m., I'm going insane_

_ You're all I want, you're all I need_

_ I miss you so much it's like a stomachache_

_ And I need something…sweet_

_ It's four a.m., I'm not tired at all_

_ You're everywhere, in the moon and in the stars_

_ You're taking up all space, all systems go_

_ You are my, my downfall!_

_All I've seen since two o'clock_

_ Is your eyes and your smile and your lips_

_ All I've felt since two o'clock_

_ Is love and the way that it is_

_ All I've desired since two o'clock_

_ Is…_

_ More, more, more…_

_ It's four p.m., still in class_

_ You're two seats in front of me, one across_

_ The teacher's talking but I don't hear one word_

_ You're all that I am, without you I'm lost_

_ It's four p.m., not caring about school_

_ Just you and the way that you are (oh!)_

_ I can't see anything but you and your face_

_ I need you more than anything so far! (ah!)_

_All I've seen since two o'clock_

_ Is your eyes and your smile and your lips_

_ All I've felt since two o'clock_

_ Is love and the way that it is_

_ All I've desired since two o'clock_

_ Is…_

_ More, more, more…_

_ I'm sorry if I sound crazy, I'm sorry if I'm obsessed_

_ But all I need, want, breathe is you_

_ And your perfectness, perfectness…_

_ I'm stuck to you like glue_

_ Now_

_All I've seen since two o'clock_

_ Is your eyes and your smile and your lips_

_ All I've felt since two o'clock_

_ Is love and the way that it is_

_ All I've desired since two o'clock_

_ Is…_

_ More, more, more…_

_ Draco…_

I cover my mouth to keep from bursting out with laughter. It's an amazing song, but the ending is hilarious. I love it. I'm performing it, definitely.

I tuck it in my robe pocket and select a book. The Hunger Games. It's amazing! I read for awhile and then get back to the dorm.

Waiting for midnight is agony. Every moment feels like a tiny little weight being lifted off of my shoulders. Every second I get closer.

Lavender and Parvati introduce me to a game called "Truth or Dare". I've never heard of it before, as in my Muggle-school most kids were quiet and kept their heads down. I wasn't one of them, ha. I was a stellar student. But we were forbidden to ask each other personal questions. We couldn't even ask what someone's sister's name was. We had to find out ourselves. There was no drama, no fighting, and no bullies at my Muggle-school, L. S. Academy.

Truth or Dare basically goes like this: someone asks someone else "truth or dare?" The person must pick one. Truth is a question asked that they must answer truthfully. Dare is an action preformed. It's quite fun.

"Truth or dare, Mione?" Parvati giggles. "I've got a good one for both."

"Ah…truth." I'm ready.

"Okay…if you had to kill Draco or Ron, who would you kill?"

Oh. That's a toughie. "I guess—Ron, because I love Draco more than anything."

"Ooh, poor Ronnie, pushed off to the side!" Lavender laughs. They erupt into giggles.

"Shut up, you two. I've got one for Parvati," I say nastily. "Either way."

"Oh God." She licks her lips. "What is it? Dare. It can't be so bad."

"Careful, Mione's smart…" Lavender says warily.

"I dare you to kiss George Weasley. On—the—lips."

"NO WAY!"

"Chicken! Chicken! Chicken!" I shout, giggling.

"Yeah, well, what was I going to do? Run up to him and kiss him? He's got a girlfriend, you know." Her cheeks are red.

"Yeah, you looooove him. We all know it," Lavender teases. "You've had a crush on him for—ev—er!"

"Have you really?" I say. "I stay at their house for part of the summer."

"SHUT UP!" Parvati screams. "REALLY?" She takes my hand. "Would you possibly be able to bring guests?"

"Yeah!" Lavender agrees. "We should come with you!"

"I don't know. I'd have to ask Ron."

"He'd say yes," Lavender says automatically. "He would for me. We're in love. He'd have to."

"Well go ask him. It'd be fun all summer!" I exclaim, hugging both of them.

"Thanks again for helping me through my depression. You mean—so much to me."

"You mean a ton to us too!" they say in unison.

I stretch and yawn. "We better get to bed."

"Yeah." "I'm tired."

"I'll be back by two o'clock. I'm meeting Draco at midnight."

"You never said anything about that!" Lavender shrieks. "What will you wear? How will we do your hair? Your makeup?"

"We have to stay up with you and get you ready!" Parvati yells.

"Okay, okay, just—shh! We need to be quiet."

They start pulling out curling irons and straighteners and makeup and barrettes and so many things I'd never have touched.

"We'll straighten your hair and put a barrette in it to hold it back. Then we'll apply volumeizer and shiner. They'll really add some bounce and some sheen!"

"Oh."

"Then a little blush, some mascara, eyeliner is a must have, some foundation, and some perfume too."

They start working. I feel the straightener clamp down on the curl in my hair. Then they rub some volumeizer in and finally spray it with shiner. "Now for my favorite part," Parvati says happily. My face is coated with something, and then my eyelids feel wet and my cheeks feel itchy. "Almost done?" I say grumpily.

"Done."

They spin me around to face the mirror in our dorm.

I almost fall over.

My eyes are piercing and beautiful, thanks to the mascara and the eyeliner. They've added a bit of smoky eye shadow. My cheeks are rosy pink and my skin is glowing. I face them.

"Oh my God."

"You like?" Lavender asks.

"I LOVE!" I say happily.

I'm so ready for midnight.


	6. Chapter 6

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 6_

**A/N: Hey guys! I'm working on a Hunger Games story and I need some feedback—do you want Katniss as a girl or Katniss as a mentor? Please comment your answer ****! Enjoy Ch. 6!**

Chapter 6: Midnight Tears

Draco's POV

Hermione Granger is finally mine.

In the dormitory, I smile in the dark and make little hearts blossom out of the tip of my wand. It's late, really late, and I can still feel her lips, softly touching mine. I think I played it cool, but I was a train wreck inside, so nervous I thought my head would explode. I think and think and think of her, the smell of her hair, the shimmer in her eyes, the ring in her voice. She's so confident now, after the year of her depression. I still remember the hunch in her shoulders, the darkness in her eyes, the hollowness in her voice. It hurt me, to see her like that. And to know that Weasel King was behind it—at least, I'm pretty darn sure he is—that started the ice, running through my veins.

It's almost eleven, but I'm tired, so tired after what happened to Sylver. But I'm trying not to think about her right now. No Sylver. Just Mione. And regular teenage love stuff.

Potty is a whole different matter. She apologized, and I really think she meant it, but it still aches a little. I seriously believe her. But I honestly, honestly can't wrap my mind around a "sisterly" kiss. How does someone kiss you, sweetly, and then say it was "sibling" like? I shake my head. It's okay. She and I. Her and me. We're fine.

Last night, we wrote letters to each other to state some things. We've agreed to keep it from Ron and Harry until the Valentine's Day dance. She's told Lavender and Parvati already, and they're ecstatic. In her letter to me, written elegantly, and she said that she'd been in a depression because of her dad.

"He's better now," she wrote to me. I could tell that her pen was shaking. "Loads better." The page was a bit wet and the ink smeared a little so I couldn't read what else was written.

Poor Mione. She seems really sad about her parents. I know they're Muggles, which does intrigue me a little. My mother would be horrified. My father would be repulsed. But I'm curious. My parents always told me that Muggles were "demonic, piggish creatures with no desire to feel anything". I blindly believed it for a long time. However, after I realized I loved a Muggle-born, I came to my senses: Muggles are not that bad. They're misunderstood. A bit like us purebloods: we're not all stuck-up. We're not all prideful. We can be sweet and loving and caring too.

My eyelids grow heavy, but I'm afraid to fall asleep. If I do, maybe it will turn out that it was all a dream and that Hermione hates me. Loathes me. Is sickened by me. I don't want to fall asleep, because I have to wake up at midnight. I feel the tendrils of darkness grasp at my head, and I am pulled into a deep sleep.

_Rain falls on the rocky path. The ground is soaked with water. The wind howls viciously and the trees cast frightening shadows on the murky puddles that once were patches of flowers. Darkness is everywhere._

_ A young girl, about nine or ten, sloshes around, calling desperately for help. She is alone. A golden bangle jangles on her wrist, glowing orange-red in the dark. _

_ "Help! Help—please—my car crashed! My parents—not moving—HELP!" Her blond hair is florescent in the night. Her stormy eyes are the exact color of a rain cloud._

_ Sylver is her name._

_ "HELP! HELP!" Her wails become desperate. Tears mingle with the drops cascading down her cheeks. She is so ghastly pale that she appears starlike. _

_ She runs out of the woods and spies a small town. Running with all her might, she leaves a trail of dark red liquid behind her. Blood. Her leg is bleeding horrifically. _

_ She darts inside of a tiny building, still yelling for help. _

_ A young woman with dark brown hair runs out of a doorway, brandishing a broom._

_ "Get back, ya darn'd begga's childr'n! I've told ya, ya can't mooch from meh food sup'ly any longa! GET OUT!" _

_ "No, no, please—my name is Sylver and I'm alone and my parents and I crashed our car—my leg, my leg—they're unconscious, please help me!"_

_ The woman examines the girl for a minute, then lies down the broom and starts out the door. Pausing for a second and looking over her shoulder, she says firmly, "If I come back and any part of meh food is gone, ya gonna pay for it!"_

_ "I know, I'm just scared for my mom and dad, please save them! They're on the fork in the road by George's Inn, there's a car wreck, we slipped off the—the road, it was wet, and—and—and I just need help—please save them!"_

_ "Was wrong wit ya leg—?"_

_ "JUST GO! I'll patch it up! GO!"_

_ The woman nods, turns on her heel, and dashes away. Sylver sits down with a moan and covers her wound with a white cloth. She takes her bracelet off and presses it to the bloody part of her calf._

_ It instantly clears. It goes from mangled to good as new in a few seconds. The bracelet goes slightly red, and then fades. She touches the bangle and the blood drains into a puddle. Her face goes ashen. "Eight more," she whispers. _

_ She sits, staring blankly at a wall, lost in thought. _

_ A tear rolls down her damp cheek. A lantern in the corner flickers, casting shadows like the ones she so fears…_

_ She puts her head in her hands, resting them on her knees. Sobbing, she screams for her parents and her family and her dog._

_ After an hour of shrieking, the creak of a door gains her attention._

_ The woman steps in, her face gaunt. "Hella, darlin'," she says softly. "Feelin' okay?"_

_ "Where's Mam and Pops?" she demands. The woman's eyes glass over._

_ "I'm so sorry."_

_ And a wail, a wail that seems to last forever…_

_ The girl is older. The woman has grown taller, her accent has faded._

_ "Thought-Readers are extremely dangerous, darling," she whispers. They are in a damp, musty room. "Hogwarts don't allow many of them. You'd be lucky to live twenty years, sweetheart. The good news is that the chance of being a Thought-Reader is one in a trillion, and finding one is one in a hundred billion. But if they find you—which they might—you're done for. The Wizard community hates Thought-Readers. They're afraid of what they might find in their minds. Honey, you're not gonna be able to tell nobody."_

_ "Will you keep my secret?" she murmurs, her eyes wide. "Promise. Swear."_

_ "I swear on my life that I won't tell a soul," the woman says quietly. _

_ "But—how can I protect it?"_

_ "Don't tell anyone. If you feel weird—at any time—block off your thoughts. Don't ever talk to the person that makes you feel strange. Don't—let—them—find—you."_

_ "I won't."_

_ And the girl turned, walked out, and was ready to keep a secret._

_ Till that one boy came along._

I sit straight up in bed, panting.

Sylver's bracelet. Her parents. Her Thought-Reading. Me.

Oh my God.

Hermione's POV

I am so happy.

Parvati and Lavender and I discussed—or rather, they taught me—how to be a cute girlfriend after they applied the makeup to my face. Lavender drew me a list—How to Become the Perfect Mate. It looks like this:

Smile for a beat longer, touch him when you're talking, and laugh a lot. Show him your confident side!

Make him little gifts—cards, cupcakes, songs…it's romantic _and_ it's sweet!

Let him catch you looking at him. It shows that you like to see him—a lot! It can be in class, at lunch, or just in the Lounge Room.

If he tells you he thinks you're beautiful without makeup, then keep wearing it. He's only trying to make you feel better.

Wear your hair in a way that expresses you—if you're chic, wear it in a high ponytail. If you're a smarty (yeah, Mione), wear it with a headband.

Finally, remember that if he doesn't like you for you, he's not The One. Good luck, girlies!

I want to be perfect for midnight. I practice sweet, soulful lines and even exercise my lips a bit. I drink some water, brush my teeth _well_, and eat a whole tin of breath mints.

At eleven-thirty, I get up and walk around. Lavender and Parvati are still wide-awake, ready to help me.

Eleven forty-five.

I count the seconds. I can't help myself. I have to see him. I have to talk to him. I realize that in the past few weeks I've grown crazy over him.

Eleven fifty!

I whisper-scream a quick "bye guys" and hurry to the Lounge Room.

There.

He.

Is.

I run over to him. "Hey." I embrace him and give him a swift kiss on the cheek. Then I realize he's sweaty and flushed and dazed. Why is he always like this now?

"Hey." I kiss him gently. It snaps him back to reality. "You okay?" I ask quietly.

"Yeah. Just—had a very realistic nightmare before I came down."

"Oh, jeez, Draco. What was it about?" I touch his shoulder and put my hand on his cheek. "You're burning up. Why do I always meet you like this?"

He laughs a little and takes my hand. His is trembling. "I don't know. I'm falling apart trying to be amazing for you."

I jerk back. "Draco—don't try too hard, please. Your imperfections make you perfect."

Draco smiles at me and together we begin the five-minute hike to the lake.

"So—listen, I'm thinking of singing in the talent show. Parvati wrote this beautiful song for me. It's—it's about me, loving you."

"Oh, really?" he smirks. I laugh. "So, darling, are your feet tired?"

"No," I giggle. "Well, actually…"

Draco scoops me up and cradles me in his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder and feel his warmth. Gingerbread and mint. I breathe him in and kiss him the whole way down. I gaze up at him and touch his face—his pale eyebrows, his high cheekbones, his long eyelashes, his full lips, his arching forehead, his sleek blond bangs.

It's so comforting, so wonderful to be with him. The air is sweet and full and warm, and when we get to the lake, I feel the cool water on my feet. It's the right temperature to go swimming, but I can't swim and I don't think Draco can either.

We sit by the shoreline, and I bewitch rocks to skip across the water, making little ripples branch out. Draco eyes me, biting the inside of his cheek.

After five minutes of this, I can't take it.

"Okay, obviously something's wrong," I say softly. "What is it? You can tell me anything."

"It's a third-year girl," he confesses, and tells me all about Sylver Glisens, her Thought-Breaking, and the strange feelings he gets around her. I hate myself for it, but I feel just a bit jealous that he's been thinking of Sylver and not of me.

"I'm really—wow. Thought-Breaking started in 1833 with Keller John, nicknamed "The Demon", as he broke into people's minds and revealed their secrets to the public—anyway; it's as rare as a normal snowfall in the middle of August in Brazil."

"Thanks for the History of Magic lesson, Mione," he says lightly. "It just feels good to get that off my chest."

"You're welcome," I say happily, kissing him.

"So—there's a Hogsmeade trip coming up. April twenty-fifth. Would you like to come with me? We can study, if you like." He's so bashful in private. I love it.

"I'd love to," I reply, wrapping my arms around him.

"You're so physical. I honestly adore it." Draco kisses my ear softly.

Struck by a sudden idea, I roll down the hill we're perched on. I tumble around and around. I remember doing this as a kid. When I reach the bottom, I sit up and call: "You try!"

With a whoop, he starts rumbling down toward me. Nestling himself three feet away, he emerges from his tummy-tuck roll, laughing wildly, his face a brilliant red.

I crawl over to him and climb onto his lap. He holds me tightly and we enjoy each other's company.

Then I spring up and jump straight into the lake. Resurfacing waist-deep, I call to him, "Hey! The water's cool but not cold! It's perfect! Come on!"

He wades in slightly, and then dives right in. He whirls around and around and ducks under. Draco holds his breath for so long I get seriously worried. I'm just sloshing over to him when he splashes up.

"DRACO MALFOY!" I scream, laughing with relief and with shock. "You freaked me out!"

"I know. It was—kinda funny."

"It was," I say. Something bites at me. It wasn't—funny, really. I brush it aside. Just normal relationship bumps.

Draco smiles shyly and pulls me underwater. His fingers rest on my shoulder and I curl my fingers in his hair. We kiss fiercely, coming up only to remain glued together.

"Okay, okay, you're shivering," he tells me. "C'mon. I'll give you my jacket."

"No," I say through chattering teeth. "It's okay. I can warm us with my wand."

"But I really think you should take it. Your wand won't be nearly enough to warm both of us. Just one."

"Fine, fine," I agree.

We get out, rub ourselves with our hands, and he drapes his jacket around my shoulders. It's dry, since he shook it off before jumping in.

I lean into him as we walk back up to the castle—it's one o'clock and we can only risk an hour.

Before we go inside, Draco takes my hand. "I had the best time ever. Thank you, angel." He kisses me gently before parting.

I sigh up to the stars.

"Thank you," I whisper. "For him."

I skip inside the castle and instantly fall asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 7_

**A/N: Hey y'all! I'm really excited about this story. Thank you all so much for your support! I've gotten over eight-hundred views now. Maybe I'm overreacting. But seriously, I love to write and for you guys to complement—thanks a million!**

**Anyway, enough of my endless babbling. Here's Chapter 7!**

Chapter 7—Study Dates and Rocky Road

Hermione's POV

"Okay, now, class, we're going to work on Smile-Inducing Charms," Flitwick squeaks. "Now, it is very important that you say the incantation correctly: _giggile_. Say it with me now! _Giggile!_"

"Professor, sir," I say, raising my hand. "Is it true that the incantation is a cross between 'smile' and 'giggle', or was it simply a mispronunciation of 'giggle'?"

"Very good question, m'dear! Ten points to Gryffindor! Ah…in 1234, when Smile-Inducing Charms were invented by Willy Wincers…"

I draw his attention away. Of course, I already knew the answer. I just needed some time to scribble down a note:

_Hey, Draco—_

_ Let's study like we agreed we would tonight. Can we?_

_ -H.G._

He sits behind me, so I fling it over my shoulder. He catches it, reads it, grins, and writes—

_But of course, gorgeous. See you at five._

I smile. Something awesome to look forward to. I want to turn around and kiss him and hug him and talk to him, but that will have to wait till tonight. "Studying". Ha.

I decide to try and quench the burning desire of Draco by concentrating on the lesson.

"Now, I want all of you to break into pairs—boy/girl, please—and practice on each other. Pip pip! Off you go!" Flitwick squeaks, clapping his tiny hands together. He nearly falls off the teetering pile of books he's stacked up to reach his desk. "Goodness me, just get going," he says crossly, watching as we stare at him.

Draco brushes past me, and then wrinkles his nose in disgust. I catch the wink and know we're doing "Hermione and Draco Hate Each Other".

"God, Hermione, can't you see? Jesus Christ, trying to knock me over?" He laughs loudly. "Get out of the way, you garbage."

"SHUT UP!"

"BE QUIET, IDIOT!"

Two high, female voices ring out. Oh god. It's Parvati and Lavender.

"Shush, guys, he's only jealous," I say, winking. Their faces flood with relief.

"Yeah, Malfoy, you're jealous that you can't get with her. We all know you love her!"

It's a different, snide voice.

Draco's face goes slack. "What did you say, stupid?"

Joshua steps right smack in Draco's face. "You have a giant crush on the Mudblood. We all know it!"

He pulls from his pocket a piece of parchment. It's got Draco's name on it, and **my** name embroidered in a heart, along with some Snitches and a boy and girl—who look exactly like us—kissing.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Oh god.

Tears sting my eyes. He's so sweet—he drew this! He's not only an amazing artist, but he loved me forever, he's so sweet.

"Draco, why did you do this? To humiliate me? To embarrass me? AUGH!" I pretend to throw up. "You're disgusting! A slug! A troll!"

"I only drew it to—to—" He can't get the words out. He's struck dumb. That picture really rattled him.

"To prove your 'impenetrable love' for her? I read your 'journal'. Or shall we say 'diary'?" Joshua says, a cruel smile playing across his lips. His eyes are cold and rude and angry and I hate him I hate him…

"Shut up, Joshua," I say bravely. "At least he's nicer than _you_ are."

"Oooh, the Mudblood loves DRAAAACO!" Joshua practically bellows. "I knew it! I knew it!"

"Goodness me, children, get on with the charms! Now, I must step out of the room for awhile. A half hour at the most. No more of this nonsense, or it's detention day!" Flitwick totters out of the room.

Draco faces me frantically. "Why the—how could—you just admitted our love!"

"They were going to find out anyway!" I whisper back.

"But we have to protect our secret—ah, never mind. It's not important!

Something tells me that to him, it is.

I kind of doze through the lesson, thinking really hard. Thoughts, as usual, cram themselves into my brain until I feel like I will explode.

_Draco said he loved me for ages. How long is "ages"?_

_ Joshua had a drawing. Did Draco do it, or did Joshua fake it?_

_ Draco was silent through his insulting-period with Joshua. Why? He could've fought back. He always does._

_ What will Ron say? What will Harry say?_

_ And then there's the issue of the kiss with Harry. Does he still trust me?_

I put my head in my hands. Draco whispers, "It's okay, forget it. No big deal. You're right."

I see his lips move once more. I don't think he meant for me to hear it.

"As always."

Hot.

Cold.

Then lukewarm.

Then roaring fire fills me. I can't believe him! He—he dares—!

"How dare you! How dare you contradict me! I only said what I said for it to protect you. Now let's partner up."

"No! It'll look…weird…"

"Draco Malfoy, you listen to me RIGHT now. You don't understand some things. Neither do I, but we need to either hide our affections or broadcast them. Take your pick."

"I—I don't—why do I have to decide?"

Oh god. I sense a fight. Our first one.

"Because, you can't possibly just leave everything up to me!"

"Oh, and I'm supposed to sort everything out myself, huh? I need your help sometimes, Hermione!"

I grab his hand. "Okay, we're broadcasting it, then."

"Sure! Go right ahead! Because apparently _you're_ the only say in this relationship!"

"I AM NOT! You—oh god, just forget it, Draco!"

I spin out of my seat and take a breath…

Harry and Ron speed into the room, late. The whole class is buzzing with excitement.

"What's going on?" Harry says. Ron stares at our adjoined hands.

"Ask the Mudblood." Draco wrenches his hand away. I'm not sure if it's part of our "Hermione and Draco Hate Each Other" act or if he really is that mad. "She's the one who was forced to partner up with me."

Oh thank god.

"Yeah. We were testing out our Smile-Inducing Charms. You need to be physically connected." I roll my eyes. "Flitwick proclaimed us 'partners'." I shoot him a look of disgust. "This is the worst. Would one of you possibly be able to switch with PB here?"

"What? 'PB'?"

"_Pureblood_, idiot."

"Oh, shut up. You wish you had my blood. You're just a little _Muggle-born_, an insignificant _Mudblood_."

"You watch your mouth!" Harry yells, pointing his wand in between Draco's beautiful gray eyes, which are narrowed.

"It's not my fault she's got filth in her blood, you half-blood!"

"_I_ am a pureblood! But _I_ don't go 'round screaming it!" Harry snaps.

"You're a half-blood, since your weakling mother was half Muggle!"

Harry roars and charges at Draco, his wand flying.

"NO!" I shriek, but it's too late.

They start wrestling on the ground, Harry shouting and Draco yelling. "GERROFF ME, YOU HALF-BLOOD!"

Harry throws a punch at Draco's nose. Instantly blood spills from it. "YOU IDIOT MUGGLE-MOTHER FREAK!" Draco screams, kicking Harry in the gut. Harry doubles over, and it's a window of time for me to launch myself in between the struggling boys.

"STOP!" I yell, holding up my hands. Harry's wheezing and Draco's pinching his nose. I face Harry. "You'll get in terrible trouble when Flitwick comes back." I wave my wand at him and he instantly stands up straight.

"Thanks," he growls, peering over my shoulder at Draco.

I face Draco, wink, and then say angrily: "You pompous little prat, you screwed-up, prideful, disgusting liar; if you ever call me 'Mudblood' again I will personally unleash a tiger on you."

"Half-Muggle," he taunts. I roll my eyes.

"I need a new partner. I refuse to work with a box jellyfish."

"And what's _that_ gibberish supposed to mean?" Draco laughs snidely.

"Box jellyfish have all the regular organs except—"

I grin and flip my hair over my shoulder like Lavender taught me. "—the brain."

Harry and Ron laugh. "Jellyfish. That's perfect, Mione."

"It's not freaking funny if you have to explain it, dumb girl!"

Ron's face flushes. "She's not dumb, idiot. She's smarter than you are. She got ten O's and one E in her O.W.L.s! What did you get? Did you get ten O's, PB?"

"Be quiet, Weasel King. What did you get? Did you get ten O's?"

Ron sighs impatiently. "Oh, Malfoy, you have so much to learn."

This makes the whole class laugh. They've been watching, some gleefully and some sullenly.

The door opens and Flitwick teeters in. "I am back. Now, who has been practicing?"

I step forward. "Excuse me, Professor, but is there anyway that I could possibly be paired with Ron Weasley or Harry Potter? I don't want a prat for a partner."

The class laughs again. Flitwick nods. "That can be arranged, Miss Granger. Who would you like?"

Harry shakes his head and motions to Neville, who's partnerless and staring intensely at the floor. I feel sorry for him and then glad that Harry volunteered for him. "I'll take Weasley."

Ron bounds over and slings an arm around my shoulders. I send a small sympathetic look at Draco. He shrugs and turns to Joshua reluctantly. I feel awful but I remember we have to protect it.

And then something strikes me.

_How can we protect it if we're going to the Dance together? What are we going to do, dance under the Cloak?_

It hits me.

_We can't go to the Dance._

Oh, dang it!


	8. Chapter 8

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 8_

**A/N: Hey guys! A few things:**

**I am SO sorry I haven't posted as much! I am so busy at the moment—basketball practice and exam preview time—that it's getting harder. But I promise I will post at least three times a week, most likely four.**

**There's the fight! Please review if you liked it or not. It WILL continue in this chapter, and even get hotter.**

**Do you want Sylver, Draco, Hermione, or Lavender to die? I can make that happen, you know. I have plans for one major character to die, I'm just not sure yet.**

**THANK YOU all so much for your support. I honestly treasure every review. PLEASE review suggestions, constructive criticism, positive reviews, or even just a "hi". They really brighten my day!**

**Okay, enough of my babbling. Enjoy chapter 8! **

Chapter 8: And The Fight Continues

Hermione's POV

I sigh into the darkness for the umpteenth time. It aches every time I think of him.

The Dance is haunting my mind. It's driving me insane. I can't go to it. A) Harry and Ron would skin me alive, b) Draco and I are in the middle of a row, and c) if he wants to keep the secret so badly, I'm not going to stop him.

Besides, with the whole Yule Ball junk and stuff I can't do another dance. Ron and I fought terribly then. Although, dancing with Viktor was wonderful. He and I…we lost touch. I feel bad about that. He was delightful. I still remember his words…

_"Herm-own-ninny, I haff never felt this vay about another gir-rl. You are simply incredible. Come and visit me in my cass-tle."_

I wanted to. I really wanted to. But I couldn't bring myself to. I was thinking of Ron then. Selfishly. Maybe things could've been different, but I chose my own ways. We still write occasionally, but—it's different now.

His last letter was tear-jerking and soulful. His English is spot-on now. His letter—I nearly cried. Here—

_Dear Hermione,_

_ I miss you so much. I stay up at night in my castle, painting your face and writing all about you. Your eyes haunt me. Your smile is permanently burned into my mind. The fire reminds me of you. You are radiant, beautiful, sweet, and loving. I will remember you always. You're special. I remember the first time I saw you: you were laughing with a boy: Harry Potter. I've always been jealous of him—he spent so much time with you and you told him everything. _

_ I would sneak into the library to see you all the time. You were always immersed in a book or with your friend. It made me so mad, and I was constantly hoping you were alone. I tried to work up the nerve to talk to you, or even just sit near you, but alas, I could not. Finally the Yule Ball rolled around—and you were mine._

_ Thank you for everything you've done. I wish you still wrote me like you used to. There's another man in your life, isn't there? I just want you to know—I will never, ever get over you. You are my everything. Everything beautiful whispers "Hermione". Everything intelligent breathes "Hermione". Everything I love murmurs "Hermione"._

_ I hope that one day, I will see you again._

_ Signed,_

_Viktor Krum_

I remember just wanting to sob when I received it. I wrote back, yearning for him to understand. I told him he was wonderful, that yes, there was another guy, and that I would never forget him either. _I thought you were "the one" for awhile,_ I wrote, _but now I realize that it was just a tweenage love story. I'm sorry._

Tears sting my eyes as I lie in my bed at four in the morning, crying over a boy I knew so well. I wonder if things would've been better if we were just friends. I want to write him back saying that I truly am sorry, but I don't know where to start. It would be so awkward. _Hey, Viktor, remember how I said it was a little, unimportant romance? Well I lied, but I still don't want to get back together! Bye! _

It's one of those times when you wake up early in the morning but not late at night and I can't go back to sleep. I decide to head to the Common Room and do some Transfiguration homework. It's not being assigned till tomorrow, but I talked to McGonagall about it and she gave me the paper.

_The…concept…of…__Animagi__…was…developed…_

I set down my quill in frustration. I can't concentrate. So many things are filling up places in my mind that should be crammed with facts. My grades have improved immensely since my depression faded.

Augh.

I'm such an idiot. Every time I think of Dad I feel like crying. Daddy. My rock. My hero. My king. I miss him so, but it's nice to have Draco, Lavender, Parvati, Harry and Ron to numb the pain.

Ron and Lavender are stronger than ever. I caught them kissing fiercely in the Lounge Room one day. Lavender came back to the dormitory flushed and giggly, like a little girl in a candy store. "It was the _best_," she confessed. "He held me and kissed me and just—wow!"

I switch thoughts and think of the talent show.

_Hey._

I look around wildly. Who the heck is talking?

_Um—Sylver. Sylver Glisens? Remember? I know Draco._

I relax. It's not Pansy Parkinson coming to gloat. It's not the Bloody Baron coming to breathe down my neck. I'm fine.

_I just thought you seemed a little stressed. You've got the talent show, your dad, Draco, Ron and Harry, your schoolwork, and a ton more to worry about. _

"Yeah, I guess," I say aloud.

_You don't have to talk. Just think of what you want to say, only think of me while you think of what you say. Does that make sense?_

_ Yes,_ I think.

_Good! You've got it! So, I'm Sylver. You haven't met me in the flesh, have you?_

_ No, I haven't, but Draco told me about you. And your Thought-Reading. It's fascinating!_ I think giddily.

_Yes—well, you can't tell a soul. I am dangerous. Very. Dangerous._

_ Oh. What's your advice?_

_ Lose yourself in something you love. Music, writing, painting, running. Do what makes you happy for awhile, and constantly take breaks between different things. For example, if you have homework and talent show practice to attend to, do something you like before doing your homework. Then after you finish, do something else you enjoy before attacking that practice. I thought it might help._

_ Yes, loads! Thank you. _

_ No problem. See you around._

_ See you._

Wow. This little third-year girl is pretty smart!

I breathe relief. I finally can take some breaks. I have to remember to personally thank Sylver in the future. I think of her name. What's her last name? Oh, yes. Glisens.

Wait…

A…

Second…

Sylver. Silver. Glistens. Glisens.

Hmm. Her name seems strange, somehow.

I decide to research it in the library. "Sylver Glisens" sounds just like "Silver Glistens". Glistens means "shine".

I head to the library. It's four forty-five now. It'll be breakfast in four hours.

I hardly have any time at all!

I run to the library and immediately choose _Wizarding Families of the Twenty-First Century._ It's relatively new given that it was published in 1994, and its spine is still stiff. I flip to the "G" section.

I read it thrice before I realize that there's no "Glisens" in _Families_.

Oh god! Draco's "friend" is not what she seems.

Sylver is a peculiar name. Silver. And yet, Draco says she's always wearing a gold bangle. Silver and gold are polar opposites.

_In her vision, she could heal herself with her bracelet,_ he told me. Probably some dittany on it, or a Healing spell. Still, it's mysterious that it glowed red-hot. That's not a Healing spell or dittany, either. An ancient charm, more like.

I choose a different book. Nothing. Another. Another. Finally I find a paragraph with "Glisens" in it, but it's only about a poor farmer who worked on a cotton plantation.

I go to the newspapers next. Still nothing.

If only I could figure out her real surname, things would be simpler.

I spend three and a half hours mooching from the library, ruffling books and newspapers and even pamphlets. Nothing on "Glisens" except a small article about Yvonne Glisens of number 24, Moonlight Drive. Nothing special.

I finally abandon the search, ready to pick it up tomorrow. Heading down to breakfast, I bump into Draco. He smiles.

"Hey. Sorry about yesterday."

"I know, I'm sorry too. I just feel really bad about the Valentine Dance. I know you were looking forward to going."

He raises his eyebrows. _"Looking forward_? What do you mean?"

"Well, you wanted to keep our secret, so we can hardly go," I explain, bewildered by his lack of comprehension. "Don't you understand?"

"No, I don't. I never said I wanted to 'keep our secret'!"

"Yes, you did!" I say, rather loudly. "You were hesitant and snippy to me. So we're not going, correct?"

"Incorrect!" he shouts. "I've been looking forward to this for ages! I thought you bought the tickets! They must be sold out by now!"

"Oh, you're too sensitive! You didn't even want to _go_ yesterday!" I retaliate.

"Hermione, I did want to go! I just didn't want to say it in front of Joshua!"

"He would've freaking seen at the dance," I inform him, exasperated. "You must realize this, Draco!"

"But I don't! He wasn't going! And now, neither am I!"

"Oh, _come on!_" I yell. "You're making such a big deal out of this! You big baby! We can do something else!"

"How did this become a fight so fast, Hermione? Oh, let's think." He puts on a face of mock befuddlement. "I know! Because _you_ are too riled-up."

"Yesterday you were mad at me for wanting to tell about our relationship, and now you're angry for me wanting to keep it secret? What's your problem?"

"YOU! You're my problem! You don't understand that things freaking change!" He runs a hand through his hair, sighing. "Never mind. You're right. As always."

This time he doesn't try to whisper it. He doesn't try to conceal it from me.

He just comes right out and says it.

"I'm not always right!" I scream. "I am not! How could you? Again?"

"You are. Admit it. In class, you're always correct. That's your fatal flaw. You always have to be right."

"You've been reading too much _Percy Jackson,_" I say snidely. "Anyway, _your_ fatal flaw would be sensitivity over nothing!"

"Shut up!" he yells, grabbing my arm. "You don't get it! You don't understand me!"

"Nor do you! You hardly understand yourself!"

He shakes me violently. I flash back to a time when I was beaten by a local bully on the playground.

_"Miss Know-It-All!" she screams, charging at the girl with the bushy hair. "Always got the freaking answers right, don't you, sweetheart?"_

_ "I—I don't—don't—"_

_ "Shut up!" Dalasi shouts. She punches the girl, who falls to the ground. The girl cowers and begins sobbing._

_ "N-no, p-please—I'm sorry, I'm s-sorry!"_

_ "SHUT YOUR FACE UP!" Dalasi kicks at Hermione, who screams in agony. A foot in the face, the chest, the arm. Her nose is bleeding and her cheek is bruised. Tears mingle with the blood on her lips._

_ "I'm g-g-going h-h-home," Hermione announces shakily._

_ "OH NO, YOU'RE NOT!" Dalasi says joyously. Hermione is thrown to the ground and lands straight in a puddle. "Now—to really silence you—ha, ha!"_

_ A fist, a handful of stars, and after that, a horrible pain in the mouth…_

"STOP FREAKING SHAKING ME!" I scream. "You're b-being abusive!"

Draco suddenly stares down at his feet. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I'm really—"

"Get away from me. GET AWAY! You're just like that girl who hit me for two years. GET away!" I yell, sobbing, and run down a corridor.

This went downhill fast.


	9. Chapter 9

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 9_

**A/N: Hey guys! What's up? Okay, so basketball practice will END Thursday, and then it'll only be games on Saturdays. So I should be able to post more. And what did you think of the fight? It's going to continue for a few more chapters, I'm thinking…DISCLAIMER: I don't own Back To December by Taylor Swift. Can you tell I'm a Swiftie? Ha-ha! And the reason everything's in lowercase for Draco is he feels small, lame, and sad. If you were wondering, which I bet you were.**

** Enjoy Ch. 9! I'm thinking of making this an, eh, thirteen-chapter story? So, yeah! Here you go! **

Chapter 9: Sorrowful Singing and Puckers for Pansy

_way to go, doofus! you totally wrecked her! _i think as i watch her turn a corner, crying. "mione—mione! wait, come back! please come back! i'm sorry, i'm sorry—!"

i try to stumble after her, but my eyes won't work and my head is fuzzy. i fall on the ground. something's broken between us, i can feel it. she's either not coming back for awhile or not coming back at all.

i pull myself to my feet, shake my head, clear my mind, and focus on one thing, over and over.

hermione, hermione, hermione.

i hurt her. i shook her. i caused her pain.

_oh god no oh god no oh god no…_

_ please, please, please let her come back…_

hermione sung me a song once. it was sad and soulful and beautiful.

_so this is me swallowing my pride_

_ standing in front of you saying i'm sorry for that night_

_ and i go back to december all the time_

_ turns out freedom ain't nothing but missing you_

_ wishing i'd realized what i had when you were mine_

_ and i go back to december all the time_

i wish i could swallow my pride and apologize, but i don't think i can now.

everything inside of me feels small now. i feel small. i feel horribly sick inside, my stomach flipping and my head spinning.

you can't take back what you've done once you done it. words and actions have a lasting effect on people. especially sensitive people.

_she kind of deserved it._

no she didn't, i tell myself. she only spoke her feelings. she didn't physically hurt me. verbally yes, she did. physically no.

oh god, what if we're through?

i think of everything i felt, everything i desired. for awhile it was hermione granger. for awhile it was her eyes and her smile and her laugh and her hair and her smell and her look and her. herherherherherher.

my eyes sting. i start silently crying. she's right. i'm too sensitive.

_Hey, Draco,_ sylver says.

_hello,_ i think wearily.

_You know, you should've just held her arm and pulled her close and kissed her, to make up for it._

_ thanks a lot, syl. _i am furiously saddened.

_Well, it's true. Don't—don't come hit me, please._

i freeze. now others will be worried that i will hit them? oh no. oh no oh no oh no.

_Hey—do not worry. It will be okay._

_ use contractions._

_ Jeez, dude, it is fine._

_ are you doing this to try and make me laugh? it won't work, you know._

_ Oh, you do not know that, do you? It might make you laugh. You will laugh. You WILL!_

_ Ha._ I think it to shut her up.

_Just tell me to be quiet and I will. Okay?_

_ okay. please be quiet._

_ Kay. Bye, Draco. I'd apologize ASAP if I were you._

_ thanks. i will._

i run to the first place i think of.

potter.

he's got that map. he'll help me find her.

"harry! harry!" i say, running into the lounge room. there he is, sitting with ron's sister. they stop kissing for a moment. "harry, please, i need your map."

he looks stricken. "How did you know about that—?"

"it doesn't matter. i need it. hermione and i had a row. i need to find her and say sorry."

"Why do you need to say sorry?"

oh shoot. i just revealed it. i try and cover it up.

"because she took my potions book and won't give it back now."

"So why do you need to say 'sorry' to her?" he looks annoyed. he goes back to kissing ginny, i think she's called.

"harry potter, you listen to me right now! i need it! give it! please! i'll do anything!"

a smile spreads across his face. "Anything…"

"yes! anything!"

"You have to kiss Pansy Parkinson. Then I'll give it to you. Plus, all of Gryffindor has to be watching."

oh god no. hermione will see! but i have to find her first. i need the map to say sorry asap.

"fine! fine! i will! hand over the map!"

he pulls it out of his pocket. "Unbreakable Vow time."

no.

he.

didn't.

ginny is our bonder. Harry grins at me over our linked arms.

"Do you promise to kiss Pansy Parkinson tonight at dinner?"

"yes."

"Do you promise to do it when all of Gryffindor is watching?"

"y-yes."

"And do you promise not to back out? I will only give you the map if you agree."

i glare at him, but hermione's tears swim in my head.

"yes."

ginny giggles. "Okay then," she says. we unlink our hands. potter smiles and hands over the map. "No breaking, ripping, mauling, destroying, or burning it."

"i understand, you idiot!" he starts making out with her as i run off toward the gryffindor common room. thankfully i know the password.

"newt tail!" i gasp at the fat lady portrait. she's reading something and says "well then" without looking up. i run inside to find hermione, crying and being comforted by lavender and parvati.

"hermione, i'm so sorry," i begin. lavender and parvati jump out of their seats and form a shield, in front of hermione.

"Shut your fat mouth! You hurt her! She's done with you!" parvati screams.

lavender starts shouting things like "TRAITOR! RUDE! LAME! BULLY!"

"no—please mione—i made a mistake!"

"You abused me," she says bravely, drawing herself up to full height. "You hit me just like the girls on the playground used to."

"i didn't, i shook you—"

"Even worse. I still have the marks. I'm not going to Pomfrey, though, because then you'll get expelled."

"oh. thank you, i guess. but please, i'm sorry, i'm sorry."

"No. I can't just forgive you for something like that." she stares at me, unforgiving, her brown eyes veiled. just like they always were, before.

"what do i have to do to make it up to you?" i beg.

"You can't. I'm sorry, Draco."

"no, _i_ am!" i plead.

she glares at me. "Always pompous. I'm sorry, but you'd really have to prove you were truly sorry."

oh god.

pansy.

dang it!

"don't go to dinner tonight."

"I'm going to dinner!" she says furiously. then she spins on her heel and strides away, lavender and parvati at her sides and still consoling her.

i sink to my knees. no, no, no. pansy—harry—i'll kill him! i'll skin him alive!

the rest of the day i daze through my lessons. i take notes without realizing it. i answer questions without knowing it. i shuffle to classes, turn in my homework, and participate openly without being aware of it.

finally dinner rolls around and i'm a nervous and guilty wreck. but there's no backing out now. i can't believe he did the vow over something so small! how dumb is that?

pansy saunters up to me. she whispers "Harry told me you had a thing for me. Ha! I can't wait to finally kiss you. I've loved you for ages. Ages!"

"pansy, it was just a dare. a fling!"

"The VOW, Draco. The VOW." she giggles and turns. "Attention! Attention, fellow students! Sonorus!"

her voice is magically magnified. everyone turns, including the teachers.

i groan and cover my face with my hands. peeking through them, i see hermione, looking appalled, disgusted, and sad at the same time.

"Draco Malfoy and I will now kiss! We're in love. Haha!"

hermione puts her head in her lap and her back trembles. i know she's crying. i feel sick.

pansy turns and kisses me fiercely. she kisses me and kisses me and kisses me. i jerk back after awhile and the whole hall is shaking with laughter. the teachers look amused.

"Thank you!" pansy proclaims. "Quietus."

i turn and dash right out of the hall, tears soaking my face. i feel so bad, so horrible, so freakish and so sorry for hermione.

i fall onto my bed in the dormitory.

what have i done?


	10. Chapter 10

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 10_

**A/N: Hey y'all! What's new? Okay, so I still will have basketball practice on Thursdays, Tuesdays, and Sundays, not to mention games on Saturdays. Misheard my coach, I did. I am so sorry! I promise I will still try and post a ton, though. I need ideas for what to do when I'm done with this story! Should I do a Hunger Games story? I think I will. If you've got any suggestions PLEASE, I beg of you to leave it in the reviews section. How many more chapters do you guys want? Also: I don't own the "girl on fire" phrase or Katniss Everdeen. Well, enjoy Ch. 10!**

Chapter 10:

Hermione's POV 

I sit a bench near the lake, staring out at the rippling water on the lake. April's come in like a lamb lately, and it's done nothing to improve my mood. I am a lion: a sad, raging, broken lion. Maybe if it was stormy and gray and pouring rain, I would feel just a bit better. Just a bit, maybe.

Lavender and Parvati have been comforting me 24/7. Remembering our promise, yesterday they faced me and said, "You have to break up with him."

They're right. Draco's broken me three times. I can't possibly forgive him now. He's shook me, screamed at me, and kissed another girl. Draco and I are through. History. The past.

Kissing Pansy Parkinson shattered me. How could he? How? I only saw her just reach his lips when my vision got blurry with tears and I couldn't see and I put my head in my lap and cried. I noticed Harry looking gleeful and Ron clapped me on the back. I guess he thought I was laughing.

The wind ruffles my hair and I sigh tearfully, my exhale catching in my throat. My nose burns and my eyes sting and my head hurts and I feel sick to my stomach. I want some medicine from Madam Pomfrey and I want to stay in the hospital wing forever and never see Draco again. I want to kiss someone and feel loved again and feel sweet and happy and not like the little depressed girl I was. Lavender and Parvati would never let me become depressed again, I'm sure of that. But they can't stop me from feeling heartbroken.

The lakeshore is full of couples, sitting in the shade and enjoying the unseasonably warm weather. One makes their way over to me.

"Hello, Hermione!" Luna says brightly. I haven't heard her happy like this in a long time. She turns and gives Neville a peck on the cheek. "Isn't it a lovely day?"

"N-not really," I sniff through a reddened nose. I'm obviously sick with something. Luna's smile fades and Neville looks at me sadly.

"Are you alright?" he asks softly. I shake my head.

"N-no, I'm n-not alright. My b-boyfriend ch-cheated on me and sh-shook me. I n-never w-want to see h-him again."

"Oh god," he says. Luna looks sympathetic. "I'm so sorry," she says consolingly. "Is there anything we can do?"

"Oh—I don't th-think so. But it's ok-kay."

"No it's not." Luna sits next to me. "Daddy always says that the way to fix a broken heart is with another broken heart, so the two hearts connect to make a whole."

I stare at her. That's actually amazing advice. But where on earth will I find another broken heart? Neville looks sympathetic.

"O-o-oh." Another breath catches in my throat and makes me choke. Luna puts her arm around me and smiles. "I'm going to help you. We are."

"Th-thank you. You g-guys are together n-now?" I wipe my nose with my sleeve and try not to puke all over the two snuggle-bugs. I've got the flu now for sure.

"Yes. But is it painful to talk about? We don't have to say anything about us two!" Neville says warily, adjusting his crooked hat. Luna shoots him a look. "Shush, Neville. Yes, we've been dating for a few days now. I'm mad about him. He's mad about me. We're both 'loony' and 'nervous', apparently."

I laugh because Luna's nothing close to nervous, and Neville's nowhere near loony. Then I feel like crying. Then throwing up. Then crawling under the lake and just dissolving.

Luna strokes my hair and I put my head in her lap. We've gotten so close, and I can't believe I ever thought her annoying and crazy. She whispers not words of pity, but a funny story about her and her dad going Plimpy fishing. Neville pats my arm (kind of awkwardly but sweetly nonetheless) and laughs along with Luna. I manage a few smiles and a couple of "ha" sounds.

"I wonder if the Joseyes have gotten you," Luna says empathetically.

"Hmm—hmmm?" Is it possible to stutter a "hmm" sound? I guess so, since I just did.

"Joseyes. They're little bugs that stick to your teeth and make you cry. It's horrible!" She shudders. "I remember I got the Joseye-syndrom once! Oh, I couldn't stop crying."

Neville and I exchange a look and for the first time in a long time I truly laugh. Luna smiles down at me. "There you go! I knew I could do it!"

Neville chuckles and pats my arm again. "Sorry you're so sad lately. Who did you break up with?"

I consider saying "Ernie Macmillan" but decide that I can trust these two. These two won't get mad. Well, maybe Neville will, but I'm in such a right state that he'll go easy on me. Ron and Harry…I'm just not ready.

"Draco Malfoy."

Neville goes stock-still. "Oh."

"I'm s-sorry, Neville, but I l-loved him. I r-really did." I sniff and wipe my eyes.

"Then that's all that matters," Luna says sharply, glaring at Neville. "That you loved him. _Right, Neville?_"

"Right."

Luna sighs and whispers, very audibly, "He's such an idiot."

"Hey!" He tugs on her ponytail once. She rolls her eyes and turns around. Sweetly, she replies with an "ow". Then she shoves him onto the ground, hard. Then they go rolling down the hill together.

_I remember when Draco and I did that._

_ Midnight, yes. That's when it was._

_ Oh, how I wish I was still with him…_

My heart aches and my head hurts and my legs feel numb.

SYLVERSYLVERSYLVERSYLVER

Her name and her eyes swim in my head and make me dizzier than before.

"Bye, Hermione!" Luna calls up from below on the ground. "I'll check on you later!"

"See you!" Neville yells. Then they start climbing the hill, kissing and touching and smiling. I feel tingly through my whole body.

I skid into the castle and run for the library.

Gray. Gray gray. Gray gray gray gray grayyyy

Her eye color, so like Draco's is permanently stuck in my mind. Why? Why did her name, like a bullhorn, scream into my brain? Why?

_SYLVERGLISENS_

I put my hands over my ears as I sprint. Just three more corridors…Three more…Two…

_sylver sylver sylver glisens glisens glisens_

"Shut UP!" I say loudly, causing two babbling second-years to grow hurt looks on their faces. Something's wrong. Something's terribly wrong.

A scream. A scream that goes on and on and on and is so familiar and agonizing that I sink to my knees and get lost in counting the bricks on the wall…

Screaming in my ears screaming in my ears

Stop it stop it stop it

!

My mind is full of cotton. I'm so sick I must be hallucinating; because there's no way that the screams could belong to nothing. That scream can't be the air, howling its lungs out, no way at all no way no way…

And black that goes on for miles and miles…My head hurts…My arm hurts…My heart hurts…

_Fire. Fire everywhere. Smoke clouding out the sun. The sky is bleeding. _

_ A girl, about thirteen years old, stares at the wreckage that she once called home. A little shop with a bedroom in the back of it. A girl, Shelia, who cared for her after that horrible night. Fiendfyre. Who did this? WHO THE HECK DID THIS? _

_ Hot. It's very, very hot. The girl is on fire. The girl who was on fire. Katniss Everdeen. A book she read once. A very, very good one. Arrows and bows. Nothing._

_ "SHELIA! SHELIA, WHERE ARE YOU?" The girl shouts, calling for her guardian._

_ The roof creaks and the wind blows smoke into her eyes. Her gray, stormy, tear-filled eyes. Her hair is burning. Her hair is on fire. And yet, she walks and lives and breathes. She's unharmed. Perfectly fine on the outside._

_ Her inside is a different matter._

_ "SHELIA!" the girl bawls, her voice shaking. Shaking with flames that lick her tongue and char her teeth. The roof of her mouth is pure fire._

_ "SH-SHELIA! THIS ISN'T FUNNY ANYMORE!" _

_ And her eyes, her eyes are so gray it's ludicrous, no one has such gray eyes. They're gray as a raincloud, a stormcloud. A stone._

_ And they're pure fire. Her pupils contract to pinpoints in the cruel orange light. She's thirteen, but she's seen too much. She's had the troubles of a ninety-five year-old's full lifetime. Fire. Burning, burning._

_ "SHELIA—COME OUT RIGHT NOW OR I'LL—I'LL—!"_

_ But her Shelia did not come. She was not here. _

_ Where was "here"? Was it in the shop, in the town, or on the earth? Did she die?_

_ The girl pushed the thought out of her head. Shelia was here. Shelia couldn't—wouldn't—die. She was too tough. She thought that the girl was a beggar's child, but took her in after she became an orphan. Distrust leading to love, suspicion to care. Shelia's NOT dead._

_ "SHELIA! SHELIA, IF YOU DON'T SHOW YOURSELF I'M LEAVING!"_

_ Thoughts like these frightened Shelia to the point of tears. She loved the girl with the gray eyes more than anything. She called her "Moonbeam". She kissed her and hugged her and taught her. She was smart, beautiful, and most importantly—_

_ Her mother. She was her mother. After her biological mother died, Shelia fulfilled the role mightily and perfectly. _

_ "Shelia!" The girl's voice dropped sharply, tears evaporating off of her burned cheeks. The girl with the gray eyes was pure flame. Pure fire. Pure embers._

_ The door to the bedroom was locked. "SHELIA! SHELIA! ARE YOU IN THERE?" the girl begged. The door was flaming, smoky, burned. But the girl kicked it nonetheless. She kicked it as though it had killed her parents. She kicked it as though it had caused the fire. She kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked and kicked and KICKED—_

_ The door fell like a corpse in that moment after death. It slammed on the ground, and for a moment, just a moment, everything was silent._

_ The fire froze, the wind stopped, and the thirteen year old's breath was halted._

_ The emerald hair clip she always wore was lying, the lone object untouched by flames, on the blackened dresser._

_ The bed was smoking, the window was broken, and a footprint, muddy and burning, was imprinted on the floor._

_ "God, no, no, no, NO…" Her voice broke as she saw the proof, the proof that Shelia was gone._

_ A body, burned but beautiful, lay in the closet, surrounded by now-dry and flame victims: previously wet towels. Shelia._

_ "SHELIA! SHELIA, SHELIA, no, no, freaking god NO!"_

_ The girl screamed and yelled and cursed everything. She cursed life and death and fire and water and everyone she ever knew…_

_ The eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes. Shattered._

_ And that was the day. That was the day she knew, she knew, she would be born into a life of secrecy and lies, secrecy and lies and she would be a natural. A natural. _

_ Something broke inside of her._

_ The eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…_

"AHHHHHHH!"

I sit straight up in bed, panting, my head clear and my heart broken.

I never knew what Sylver had gone through. How could I possibly search for records of her name, search for records to prove things against her?

"Dear, darling, it's quite alright!" Madam Pomfrey says as she bustles inside.

"I'm sorry. I had a nightmare."

"Oh, don't apologize," Pomfrey says sympathetically. "It's perfectly fine. Good thing that Potter and Weasley found you, poor dear, you blacked out right in front of the library! Severe flu! Your temperature was 119! You're lucky you didn't go blind!"

"Am I? Well, I feel much better. Thank you."

"You're quite welcome, Miss Granger. Now, get some more rest and I'll give you a second dose of medicine for peaceful dreams, alright? And after you wake up, you can have some food and I'll give you a vaccine. It won't hurt one bit. Drink up!" She hands me the peaceful-dream-inducing medicine. I slurp it up happily. It tastes like mint.

Gingerbread and mint. Draco.

And as my eyelids close, my last thought is of the eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…

I don't dream of Draco. I don't dream of Sylver. I don't dream of anybody I know.

I dream of a meadow in the springtime. It's bursting with wildflowers and budding blossoms and beautiful, beautiful colors. The sky is a bright, sunny blue.

I fall into the flowers, sending petals up in the air. They dance in the wind, throwing their perfumes into the breeze. It's heavenly. Little tendrils of sunshine reach toward me, warming me with every touch. I sigh into the grass, which smells like it's been freshly mown, just like I love it.

Rain falls, but it's still bright. A shimmering rainbow stretches across the length of the sky, painting it.

But what's this? An extra color on the arc.

Silver. Metallic silver. It sparkles just after the vivid violet.

The eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes.

Something is shining, shining.

An angel. Its wings are feathery, snow-white, and sparkling. The sun hits them perfectly. The angel's eyes are as blue as ice, gleaming in the light.

Hair as white as a cloud. Skin paper-white. A dress made out of moonlight.

"Hello?" My voice sounds dull and unimportant next to the glorious being beside me.

The angel looks down at me. "Hello. I am afraid I may speak only in melodic riddles. Listen closely."

Then it begins to sing:

_ "Gray, gray does love you_

_ More than you know._

_ Heartbroken over your coldness_

_ Icy as snow._

_ The plait and the flower, those you call 'friends'_

_ Are not what they say they are,_

_ Beware a word of seven, as they try_

_To put out your star._

_ The green and the blue, they mourn over you_

_ And the line you walk will snap_

_ If you don't change a thing, and keep on walk-ing_

_ Like a traveler without a map…"_

Then it flies away, with a last song:

_"The eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…the eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…the eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…"_

"Wait! Come back!" I call up to it. "The green and the blue? The plait and the flower? Please come back!"

The flowers, so breathtakingly gorgeous, cloud the air with their perfumed scent. It chokes me, and then the blooms wilt, the sky darkens, and the eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…

I sit up, trying not to retch. I swear my throat tastes like tulips.

Madam Pomfrey hurries over. I plaster a smile on my sweaty, flushed face and pretend like the peaceful-dream-inducing medicine worked.

"Had a good dream, darling?" she asks kindly, prepping a needle.

"Oh yes. I was flying!" I hope I don't sound too perky. "It was wonderful."

Madam Pomfrey pokes the needle with her wand. "It won't hurt a bit," she repeats. "I've put a Soothing Spell on it."

She applies it to my arm. It's cold, but it doesn't hurt. Instantly, the remnants of my stomachache, headache, and runny nose vanish. "Thank you, Madam Pomfrey. May I go now? I'd like to catch up on my classes."

"Are you absolutely sure?" She looks worried.

"Yes, I'm very sure. Thanks for everything."

"If you feel sick, come back at once. Have a nice day, dear."

I fly out of the room and crouch behind a suit of armor. Writing down what the angel said in my dream, I try and figure things out.

Gray. Blue. Green. Plait. Flower.

Three colors. One hairstyle. One plant. Five total.

What do they mean?


	11. Chapter 11

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 11_

**A/N: Hey guys! Sorry that last chapter took so long. I had basketball practice yesterday and my first game is tomorrow! Plus I have to rehearse for my solo in our Christmas program. I'm so sorry about the waits in between chapters. Anyway, enjoy Ch. 11!**

Chapter 11: Jordan, Gold, and Kiss-and-Tell

Draco's POV

I've gotten some strength back since my post-Hermione breakdown, and now I can think clearly again. Her eyes still haunt me, though. The tears in them. The hurt in them. The break in them.

Nightmares every night. I have them every night. Her death, her screams, her dissolving into nothing but dust. It's awful. I can't take it much longer. I have to talk to her. I have to see her.

The Lounge Room is colder at five than the dormitory but at least I'm alone. I stare out the window, through the fog on it. It's almost a new day, and I don't want to sleep. I'm afraid of the dreams. The last one was horrible.

_A scream. A scream that goes on and on._

_ Hermione's. Hermione's!_

_ "Hermione!" I yell. "HERMIONE!" _

_ I stand up and run. I run in the direction of the scream, the scream that hasn't stopped. The scream that echoes in my ears and chills my spine…_

_ I'm in a room that's warm and a flickering fire burns merrily. So why is someone screaming, so loudly that I'm going deaf?_

_ I turn out of the room and sprint, because the scream has moved from this room to the one next to it._

_ But the next room is lined with bookshelves and cozy armchairs._

_ The scream has jumped across the hall._

_ "HERMIONE!"_

_ A second scream joins the first. It's higher-pitched and desperate._

_ "SYLVER!"_

_ A third. Fourth. Mother and Father!_

_ "AHHHH!" My scream joins theirs, five shrieks harmonizing horribly. Scream after scream joins: my aunts, uncles, friends, even Potter and Weasley…I never thought I'd care…_

_ My ears pound. Where are they all?_

_ And then there's silence as body after body hits the floor. My body smacks the floor with a BANG, a bang too loud for something lifeless._

_ Hermione hits the floor next to my unseeing eyes._

I shudder at the thought of her, and Sylver, falling to the ground, dead and cold and past and gone. Tears line my eyes as I once again think of her sobs at dinner, her sobs in the common room, her unforgiving manner because she can't trust me anymore.

I curse Pansy Parkinson and myself and even love altogether.

_Hey._

_ Hey,_ I think miserably to Sylver.

_Your ex-girlfriend doesn't trust me, you know. She's been digging in the library for records of my last name._ Sylver's voice (in my head) has a nasty edge to it.

_And has she found any?_

_ No, because she's clever one. I have to tell you something._

_ Come to the Lounge Room. Please. I'm here already._

_ What? Why are you up so early?_ Sylver sounds concerned. Like we really are siblings.

_Draco. _

_ Sorry. I'm up so late because I can't sleep without having a nightmare. _I think it sheepishly.

_Same here. I'll come down quickly._

_ Thanks. _

I sit in silence for awhile, my heart pounding. Sylver is so mysterious that it's scary. I wonder what she has to tell me and anticipate something along the lines of "I'm dying" or "I have to go".

It seems like forever, waiting for her. I realize that I long to see her silvery blonde hair, her stormy gray eyes, the corners of her mouth when they curve up, like when she smiles. I'm not in love with her: I want to see her alive, happy, and well. I love her like a sister.

"Same here, Draco." Her voice is firm, but tired. There are circles under the eyes, the eyes, the silvery gray eyes. She tilts her head, examining me. "I love you like you're my brother. The brother I lost."

"You had a brother?" I ask gently.

"Yeah. Died when I was six. Then my parents died a few years later and it was me and Shelia…sorry, I'm rambling, aren't I?" Her cheeks are bright red. "It's just been so long."

"No, it's okay," I say consolingly. "If—if it's not intruding or anything, what was his name?"

Her eyes well up with tears, but she answers. "Johnathan."

"I'm sorry about your—life." I should've chosen my words more carefully, because she looks offended. "I meant, about the things that've happened. In your life." I cringe. "Sorry. I'm no good with words."

She sits next to me, covering both of us with a blanket. "No, it's okay. I get it." She takes my hand. Hers is warm and small and slender, mine cold and trembling slightly. "Shh, shh, it's okay, Draco."

"What did you need to tell me?"

She looks me right in the eye, and I can tell she's been planning this.

"I'm not who you think I am."

"What? Yes, you are! I think you're Sylver Glisens, the Thought-Reader!" I say, aghast. She shakes her head sadly.

"No, no. I am a Thought-Reader, but—the rest was made up." Her breath catches in her throat. "The rest was—a cover. I couldn't have you blabbing that I was a Thought-Reader, and it serves me right because you went and told your girlfriend." Her voice is not angry, not tearful: it's disappointed.

"I—I was stressed, and I—"

"Imagine that stress, times ten, for four years after you found out you were a Thought-Reader. Imagine the regret, times thirty, after telling the one person you felt a 'connection' toward. Imagine the panic, times three million, once you figured out he told someone. Imagine the worry, times a billion, when you learned that 'someone' didn't trust you and was this close to uncovering your secret. My whole life is the definition of stress, Draco."

I feel so sorry for her, knowing that I, in a way, betrayed her. Heavily.

"Yes."

"I'm so, so, so sorry, Syl—uh, you."

"Yeah, let's start from the beginning." She takes a breath. "My name isn't Sylver Glisens. It's Jordan Gold. I'm cursed. A cursed girl. That's why I wear this, my gold bangle, all the time. The bangle, called The Bound, has healing powers that may be used ten times. I've used it twice. It glows red-hot and absorbs the blood of the wound, therefore healing it. It also gives me extra Thought-Reading powers, like viewing your thoughts or your words whenever I want to.

"I was cursed when I was born. There's a prophecy in the Department of Mysteries—or rather, there was—that states, as follows (I memorized it),

_ Doth, a child born of twenty November_

_ A girl with silver for eyes and fire for a heart_

_ Cursed with the power of minds and thoughts_

_ Cursed as punishment for the ones before her_

_ She bears the mark of Gem on her skin_

_ Mysterious and dark, quiet and strong_

_ Gray will come and distract her from her secret_

_ Which she must keep faithfully, or death results_

_ Gray and Silver, glistening as though drenched_

_ She will entwine herself around him, as though he is a lifeline_

_ When he is not, but merely a source of trouble_

_ Death awaits the girl at her anniversary of fourteen_

_ In which she will walk gladly into its loving arms_

_ Gray will cause catastrophe for Silver and she_

_ Will give herself up to Death's warm glow_

_ And stroll into paradise, comforted._

"There it is: the Prophecy of Silver. I'm sure 'Silver' is me, since I have silver eyes. That's when I started calling myself Silver. The other part, glistening, struck me as a perfect last name. Sylver Glisens was born. And Gray…Gray…

"Gray is you, Draco. You're gray. You have gray eyes. A gray personality. Gray is soft, dark, and dangerous. You act so nice—but I can't shake the fact that you're my downfall." For the first time, she pauses, crying. Tears run down her face. "Oh, Draco, I'm so sorry…You have gray eyes and you're always so gray. The only time you weren't was when you were with Hermione. Then you were—you were—white. I saw it. I can sense colors. I'm sort of—gifted in the brain. I see differently than you can. That's not the point, though.

"The point is that I need to separate myself from you." A sob racks her and she buries her face in the folds of her skirt. She scoots away from me so that the blanket covers only my shoulders. I never realized how small she was.

"I don't get it." I speak, finally. "Why?"

She faces me, her silver eyes tinged red. "Don't you see? _Gray will cause catastrophe _and _she will give herself up to Death's warm glow_? _Death awaits the girl at her anniversary of fourteen_? _When he _(Gray)_ is not, but merely a source of trouble_? You don't see?" She glares at me. "I'm going to die in three days! My anniversary of fourteen. My birthday is in tomorrow. I'll be fourteen. I was cursed on my birthday." Sylver-Jordan shakes her head. "I held onto the thought of you being my family so tightly, too tightly. You told Hermione, and—"

The door bursts open. Hermione stands, her lips slightly parted and her eyes on Jordan. Jordan's eyes widen and she covers her mouth with a loud "oh!"

"I knew something was funny about you!" she whispers. "I knew it! But I didn't know you were cursed. This—this could be dangerous!"

"No, please!" Jordan pleads.

"Wait! Wait!" I call to Hermione's back. I need to make things right.

"What?" she asks, her voice brittle.

I run up to her and kiss her. I kiss her so passionately, so warmly, so fiercely that she has no choice but to give up talking.

We kiss, but it's more like making out. We kiss and kiss and kiss until my mouth aches.

Finally she breaks away. Smiling slightly, she murmurs into my cheek, "I knew you'd come around."

I laugh and just hold her for awhile. Then I sit her down and tell her Syl—um, _Jordan's_ story. At the part of her parents, Hermione begins to cry.

Then she grows pitiful, and finally horrified.

"You're—you know you're going to die, and yet you're calm?" she says, stricken. Jordan shrugs and twists her mouth.

"I wouldn't say I'm calm."

Hermione stands, bends down, and hugs Jordan tightly. Then she holds her back by the shoulders and says, "I'm so sorry, for poking around in your private life."

"It's—it's okay, it's not like it matters anymore."

This causes both girls to erupt into tears. I stand by awkwardly, watching as they hug and sob and stutter reassurances to each other.

I mean, I feel bad too, but men don't cry.

Jordan laughs slightly at my thoughts. _"Men don't cry._ Ha. You hypocrite! You were crying this morning, over Hermione! You've cried every day since you two broke up!"

Hermione laughs. "Oh, god, Draco."

"Shut up, Jordan!" The girls laugh. It's strange how their emotions change so quickly. "Yeah, so maybe men do cry."

"It's what makes you wonderful," Hermione coos, and kisses me some more. We kiss happily for awhile, until Jordan clears her throat.

"Okay, that's gross, you two making out all the time," she says passively.

"Oh, Jordan, there must be _one_ boy who you fancy," Hermione teases.

Jordan blushes profusely. "N-no."

"Yeah there is!" I roar, jumping up.

"I can't say."

"Mm-hmm. C'mon. Open up!" Hermione says gleefully.

"It's—it's—"

"Go on!" I urge.

"You, Draco."

Instantly my heart races. "Really?"

"REALLY?" shouts Hermione. "Aw, god, that's—"

For a moment, I think she's angry, but she bursts into laughter.

"But—but Jordan," I say quietly, "you're in third year. And—and you're like a sister to me."

"I know," she says miserably, "and I used to long for you to notice me. That's why I staggered into the common room that day, that's why I revealed my secret to you. I told you it was like having a brother—but I really, truly loved you. I—I love you, Draco."

"I love you too, Jordan, but not passionately. Siblinglike." I feel awful, breaking her heart like this, but I love Hermione.

"Figures," she whispers. "It's her, isn't it?" Jordan jabs a finger in Hermione's direction. "Well, come and kiss over my coffin, then."

She departs, leaving me speechless and Hermione crying softly.

She's dying tomorrow.

My sister is dying tomorrow.


	12. Chapter 12

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 12_

**A/N: Helloooo everyone! 12 chapters already? Wow! I'm so thankful for all of your support. You guys mean the world to me! And **_**yes**_**, I took the Foreign Games down Enjoy Ch. 12! **

Chapter 12: Rumors and Gabbling in Other Languages

Hermione's POV

"I'm so sorry about Sy—Jordan," I tell Draco as we exit the Lounge Room. "I know how much she meant to you."

"Yeah, but I didn't know how much I meant to her!" He runs a hand through his hair. "She's in freaking love with me, Hermione, this isn't good!"

"You have to ignore that, Draco, and remember that she's dying tomorrow." Tears sting my eyes. An innocent girl with dark power and a hopeless love. Life isn't fair sometimes. "She's probably worried sick."

"She didn't show it!"

"She did when she sobbed with me!" I snap, shocked by his coldness. "What, do you _want_ her dead?"

He stops dead. "What—did—you—just—say?" he growls.

"You're being insensitive to a little dying fourteen year old!"

Draco's face falls. "Maybe I am. I just—I don't want her in love with me. I don't want her to die brokenhearted."

He takes my hand, his eyes glassy with new drops. "I'm just—she's _dying_, Hermione, _she'll be gone soon_."

"I know, I know." I kiss his lips gently, absorbing the scent and feel of him. "I'm sorry, again."

"I am too."

We walk to the Slytherin common room, where I kiss Draco goodbye. "Stay strong."

"I can't."

"You can, and you will. For Jordan."

I leave him standing by the door to the Slytherin common room, touching the spot where my lips touched his face.

I want to cry, to run, to make the world give Jordan back her life, but I can't. I need to be there for Jordan. She knows she's dying. She's prepared for it. She's ready. But I'm not.

I imagine her body, small and peaceful in death. Jordan's not small or peaceful. She's fierce and tough. _Do not go gently,_ I think, _do not go gentle._

She'll go in a raging storm of fire, the silver in her eyes losing their light slowly. I think of what her last words will be. But I draw a blank.

Jordan's a clever one. She was always smart. Sylver was the perfect name to describe her: metallic-looking hair, shining silver eyes, tough as nails. She's a fighter. A warrior. Not someone who deserves to die at fourteen.

I'm just sitting down in the common room when I hear something. Mournful singing. It echoes eerily in my ears and tears at my heart.

_"The sunlight streams through a window,_

_ Illuminating the room you grew up in_

_ Deserted and dusty, cramped and musty,_

_ The room where you slept, cried,_

_ Screamed, dreamed, felt, cheered,_

_ Danced, smiled, shouted, angered,_

_ Played, cared, talked, breathed _

_Loved, lost, broke, mended…_

_ The moonbeams dance across the floor_

_ Of a room you miss so dearly_

_ Where you hid when the waves rocked the boat_

_ The room where you hid, shed tears upon,_

_ Sheltered, took refuge, was torn,_

_ Heartbroken, bruised, cratered, messed,_

_ Frowned, sobbed, yelled, sighed,_

_ Lost all your bets, frightened, fought_

_ Where you loved, lost, broke, mended…._

_ The teardrops race down your cheeks, signs of when_

_ You loved, lost, broke, mended_

_ They are like quicksilver, shimmering down your face_

_ Silvery sheen, gray clouds,_

_ The life you lost today…"_

I realize that it's not singing, it's the angel from my dream, singing to me in my head. I shake it. _Stop imagining things, Hermione: she's dying and you can't do anything to stop it. _It burns me to push away Sy—Jordan's needs like this, but there truly is nothing I can do to stop it.

I stand up and walk around for awhile. My feet hurt and my head pounds and I wish, I wish that just for today, I couldn't feel anything.

_Let it go, let it go…be a good girl and let it go…_

"Ha, there's Ol' Squirrel, huh?" someone laughs, pointing over at me. I glare at him, with a bemused/annoyed expression. Seriously?

"Hey, why don't you go kiss Draco Malfoy, hmm?" another boy yells.

"Oooh, don't go into depression again, Granger!" a blonde girl cat-calls, smiling.

_What._

_ The._

_ HECK?_

How do they know? About my depression? Oh god, no…The word can't get out, no, no…I'll never hear the end of it…It might even restart the depression…

I turn into the common room, ready to rush to Lavender and Parvati and Harry and Ron and scream with them. Lavender and Parvati will understand best, they must…

…but instead…

Oh, god no…

_"Lavender! Parvati! What the—how could—YOU TWO!"_ I scream, running toward them, just after Lavender proclaims:

"—and then she was a little lump of misery all the time, you know, crying and all, and it was _most_ annoying, that depression she was in, all over her dumb dad!"

They quiet instantly and face me, their faces shocked and full of fear.

"Hey, Hermione."

"You shut your fat mouths up about me!" I roar. "I heard every word, you idiots, you oafs, and I think I was loads stupid to think that you were my friends!"

They stand, their arms at their sides, looking horrified.

"I suppose they've told you my other secrets, as well!" I cry, tears welling in my eyes. "About my love life, my grades, my family? About my boyfriend, my rows, all that?"

"I knew you cheated on everything," one girl sniggers.

"You beat up Ron Weasley?" Dean growls.

"Draco _Malfoy? _A _Slytherin?_" Seamus says, disgusted.

"Listen, I want to tell you that three things are true: my dad died of cancer, I _was_ in a depression, and I love Draco Malfoy with all my heart. I do _not_ cheat on everything, I am not a _player_, and I don't beat people up!" Pleading with my eyes, I look at all of them. "Please believe me. I swear to god everything—well, almost everything—these two brain-dead spineless worms was a lie!"

"Yeah, well, it _was _annoying!" Parvati says, her voice dripping with venom. "You sobbing all the time, screaming at night—you were a nightmare."

"What about you, Parvati, the weakling? What about you, Lavender, Miss Perfect? You two, always giggling, convincing me to do things and then making me do them for you? I always did all the chores—and I didn't question it for a second. I realize how stupid I was."

"You are stupid! You're ugly, too! We told them all about your hair, your teeth, your stench—you idiot! _Dummkopf!"_ I didn't know Lavender was German—but I guess it doesn't matter anymore, now that we're mortal enemies. "_Ich kann nicht glauben, dass ich ihr freund war überhaupt!" I can't believe I was ever your friend!_

"Yeah! You always showed off in class!" Parvati agrees. She bounces on the balls of her feet, her hand raised. "Professor! Professor!" A few laughs among the crowd.

"You shut up," Seamus tells a snickering sixth year. Dean glares around the room. Angelina and Katie roll their eyes at giggling boys.

_"__Du kleine__,__unbedeutende__ratte__!" You little, insignificant rat!_

"When she's mad, she talks in German! _Fluent_ German!" Parvati explains fiercely.

_"__JA!"_

"I don't freaking care!" I yell. "I don't care, I don't care, and I don't care! You never did, either! You never cared about me! And I was dumb enough to fall for it! You idiots! You donkeys! You monkeys!" My face is hot and my eyes sting. I hate this. I hate it I hate it I hate it!

The crowd watches us silently, with some looking amused, others pitiful, and some angered.

_"Sie sind zügellos spinner ohne freunde!" You are a self-indulgent weirdo with no friends!_

I speak German, so I know what she's saying, and I don't like it. "I am? I am?! You need to pretend to get friends! You need to kiss up to people to earn their 'friendship'! At least I can make them myself!"

"Yeah, well, you're losing them today."

"I still have Draco!"

_"Oh, __ja__, Draco! __Hätte__ ich fast __vergessen__! Sie __verraten__ihre__ House! Sie __verliebte__sich__ in "__liebe__" __mit__einem__ Slytherin! Ich kann nicht glauben, dass __sie__! Und Draco? Draco Malfoy? Er __ist__der__schlimmste__haufen__!" Oh, yeah, Draco! I almost forgot! You betrayed your House! You fell in "love" with a Slytherin! I can't believe you! And Draco? Draco Malfoy? He's the worst of the bunch!_

I stagger back as though slapped. My voice quivers for the first time as I say, "You can insult me all you want, but you can never—_ev—er—_insult Draco Malfoy to my face."

"Turn around then," Parvati laughs, along with half the crowd.

_"Vielleicht sollten sie zu verlassen, Eichhörnchen. Niemand will dich hier. Habe ich Recht? GRYFFINDOR HATER!" Maybe you should leave, squirrel. Nobody wants you here. Am I right? GRYFFINDOR HATER! _

All of the people in the crowd start chanting, "Gryffindor hater! Gryffindor hater!" My friends have left. Either they couldn't take it anymore or they've got better things to do.

"You know what? I think I will." I turn on my heel…

…and bump straight into Ron. His hair is disheveled and his lips are slightly parted so I can see the tops of his teeth. Harry, not far behind him, wears lopsided glasses and a similar expression.

"Draco?" he whispers, his eyes full of something I can't decode. I nod miserably. Ron snorts.

"Real funny, Mione. Who is it really?"

"I told you!" I yell. "Don't make it harder than it needs to be!"

"What happened?" he asks gently.

I give a dry sob, shedding the tears I've been fighting off, and point in Lavender's direction. Then I run the heck out of there.

Draco's POV

I pass a sobbing Hermione in the hallway. She brushes by me and I grip her arm. "What's wrong?"

"Oh—Jordan!" she exclaims tearfully. But something in her eyes tells me that it's not Jordan.

"Okay, then." I sling my arm around her and kiss her lips softly. She tastes like sunshine and bitterness. I like it. It's like an addiction: the more I have, the more I want. I'm addicted to her.

Finally she pulls away, leaving me smooching the air. She gives a slight smile at the sight of my lips. "You_ idiota."_

"You're Polish?"

She shakes her head. "Sorry. Sometimes it slips out of me. I guess after what happened, English isn't coming as naturally—I mean, I've always been Polish!"

"You liar!" I say with a grin, kissing her again.

_"__Nie jestem kłamcą!" I'm no liar! _Then she reverts back to English. "Do you speak any other languages? I'm kind of messed up in the speech part of the brain, huh? But seriously, do you?"

_"Moi? Non, je ne peux pas parler d'autres langues!" Me? No. I can't speak any other languages!_

"So we're gabbling to each other, are we?" She laughs. It's beautiful and real. Like a bell.

_"Hej, wiesz, że jesteś najlepszy, prawda?" Hey, you know you're the best, right?_

_ "Yep! Maintenant m'embrasser." Yep! Now kiss me._

She laughs and kisses my cheek. "Now what?"

"How many freaking languages do you understand?"

"A lot. Polish, German, French, Spanish, Arabic, Japanese, Chinese, Korean, Russian—"

"I get it!" I say, snickering. "You're bilingual! Or—nilingual?"

"_Nilingual?_ What the heck does that mean?" Her voice sounds brittle but it also sounds happy. I think of what she meant when she said "after what happened, English isn't coming as naturally." What did happen?

"It means you speak nine different languages!"

"I speak twelve, _dummkopf._"

"Is that Latin for 'I love you'?" I grin at her and she gives a chuckle.

"No, _dummkopf_, it's German for 'idiot'." My face falls and she laughs really loud this time. "You're hilarious."

I think of what happened again and know that now she's in a better mood. It's the time to ask. I take her hands gently and sit her down on a chair.

"Hermione Jean Granger," I say seriously. "What happened? Why were you really crying?"

She glances at me, her sweet-smelling hair falling over her face. Her brown eyes, tinged red, stare directly into mine, making my knees wobble slightly. Her fierceness is electrifying.

"Well, it all started as I walked into the common room," she begins, and eventually as she concludes with "and finally, I walked into you and here we are," I'm shocked by her "friends'" cruelness.

"Don't look at me like that!" she snaps.

"Like what?"I say innocently.

"Like I'm a kicked puppy or something! I can fend for myself." She wipes the last tear from her eye, and I know she's all cried out.

The look in her eyes changes ever so slightly; only one as close to her as myself would see it. Ron and Harry would see it, Neville and Luna maybe, but I take pride in knowing that I see it the most.

The four words that I utter paint a smile on her face.

"What are you planning?"

Two more:

"You'll see."

The final five:

"I'm in, whatever you're doing."

She smiles. I smile back.

Oh, they're going to get it.


	13. Chapter 13

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 13_

**A/N: Hey! What's new? Chapter 13 awaits! It's going to be one of the most dramatic, mark my words…I think I got a review from verapaige01 (an awesome follower) asking if Jordan would commit suicide. Nope! Good question though—I considered it, but I thought it would be more tearful if Draco was beside her when she died. And a dark secret is unveiled that maybe you saw coming, maybe you didn't…probably didn't…in fact, I guarantee you didn't! Haha! Yeah, here you go. I'll stop talking now and let you read. It's a long one! Enjoy Ch. 13! (See if you can pick up the movie phrase—I DO NOT OWN IT! WARNER BROS. DOES!)**

Chapter 13—Walking, Sleeping, and Daring

Hermione's POV

As I lay down to bed, I can only think of one thing.

_Jordan._

How is she? She must be worried sick. Imagine, knowing you were going to die the next day. Leaving behind your life. I wonder how her parents feel about this. Did Draco ever mention her parents? I rack my brains but I can't remember. Maybe he did. Maybe he didn't.

Jordan's last name, Gold, does make sense. That gold bangle she wears, the one with the healing powers. But yet, she chose Sylver for a name.

_Yeah. They're polar opposites._

I don't jump. I saw it coming.

_Hey. How are you doing? _I try to think it with no concern. Jordan seems like the type of girl who doesn't enjoy being pitied.

_You're right there. I guess I'm nervous. But I've known it for…gosh, now, how long has it been? Five years? I've been anticipating death. Death—He had me around his little finger._

_ No, it doesn't have to be that way!_ She can't possibly think that.

_Do you want to go for a walk? I can explain more._

_ Sure. _I stand up and shuffle, tiptoeing, down the steps to the ground.

"Where ya going?" Lavender says snidely, surveying me. I didn't realize she was still awake.

"Why's it matter?" I say, my voice clipped. I shrug on my jacket and place a hat on my head.

"Oooh, going to make out with Draco? Please fall in the lake. And drown."

"I can swim, Einstein." I roll my eyes, making a "please" sound.

"Mm. How wonderful." She unfolds her legs and steps out of bed. I notice she's fully clothed, like she's ready to leave in an instant. "What?"

"Where are you headed to, Brownie?" I raise my eyebrows. She giggles.

"Why's it matter?" she says cheerfully. "Gosh, Squirrel, I have a life too!"

"Excuse me while I go vomit," I say, my nose pinched. "What are you wearing, _Eu de Dog Droppings?_"

"Oh, that's your breath." She laughs at her little joke. "Seriously, Squirrel. What have you been eating? Rotten acorns?"

"Did you know that an acorn would be the _precise_ size of your brain? If your brain's size was multiplied by three million, that is." Her face flushes and I know I've beaten her. I stride past her and shut the door.

"Par, Par!" Lavender hisses. I pause and press my ear to the door. "Par! Help me think of comebacks! Wake up, Sleeping Not-Beauty! Wake up!"

I feel bad for Parvati for a second, but I then remember what she did to me and the feeling fades. "Nyauhhh?"

"Wake _up;_ honestly, it's only eleven!"

"Hmm? Lav? I-I-Is that you?" She yawns loudly, and I can hear it perfectly through the mahogany door.

"No, no, Par, it's Dumbledore. Ho, ho, ho. _Yes, it's Lavender! Dummkopf!_"

I roll my eyes once more and turn on my heel. Time to go see Jordan.

It's April and it's quite warm now. The castle seems still and peaceful at night. I smile slightly at the thought of it ever being still or peaceful. Honestly, so much happens each day it's not even funny anymore.

_Where should I meet you?_

Nothing. Hmm. I try again. _Jordan, where should I meet you?_

Still nothing. What the heck? What's going on? She always answers when I think.

Maybe it's because I tried to talk first? I don't freaking know! It's almost worrying. I picture myself talking to Jordan. I picture myself beside her, chatting and smiling. She's such a good friend.

_Aww. Thanks, Hermione!_

_ Wait—how did you hear that and not what I said before? I mean—thought before?_

_ What thoughts before? Ohhh. You didn't think of thinking to me when you thought your thoughts, I think._

_ Sure._

_ Anyway, what did you need to ask me?_

_ Where should I meet you?_

_ The trail at the main entrance should be fine._

_ Okay. See you soon._

_ Yeah. _

I turn briskly by the Lounge Room. Draco swims in my head, but I push him out. I can't dream of him right now.

The eyes, the eyes, the silvery eyes…

I focus on her. Jordan Gold. Jordan Gold. That's her!

I step on the pavement, crossing the doorframe of the main entrance.

"Hello." Jordan's low, saddened voice meets my ears gently. "You look well." Her eyes, silvery-fiery in the darkness, meet mine. Her hair is like moonlight. She resembles a star.

"Oh, Jordan…" I throw my arms around her. "Don't go gently. Don't!"

"I'm not going softly, Hermione," she says fiercely. She pushes me off of her shoulders, not at all softly. "I'd never dream of it."

"Jordan, please…I'm so sorry…"

"Don't be. I told you, it was coming!" She sounds annoyed. I laugh shakily.

"Your fire is catching."

"What's that mean?"

"It means I feel stronger already." I drape an arm around her skinny shoulders. "You're so tiny, but you are so firm. It's unbelievable."

"Yeah, well…Draco hasn't noticed." I see something flash across her face. Her nose scrunches and her cheeks redden and her eyes melt.

Jealously.

"Jordan, listen. I know you've got a thing for Draco. And you know he loves you, right?"

"Yeah, I do, but not in the way—"

"Shh. Listen. He loves you like a sister. You're lucky for that. He loves me romantically, but I'd switch places with you in a heartbeat. Sibling love is so much stronger than romantic love. You see, romantic love can break in an instant. It's like walking on ice. Parts are thick, parts are thin, but most are right in between. Cracks everywhere. You've got to be careful.

"But sibling love never breaks. It can't. It's like glue. Glue can't break. Glue can dry, but it can't break. No matter how much you hate your sibling, no matter how far you're separated, the love can't break. It's like the tape, holding together two pieces of paper. Don't you get it?

"Draco cares for you. He does. I can see it in the way he talks about you, the way he embraces you, the light he gets in his eyes at every mention of you. He might not kiss you or snuggle with you, but you know what he said when we walked out of the Lounge Room after you told us you were going to die? Yesterday?

"He said he didn't want you to die heartbroken. He didn't want you in love with him because he didn't want you to pass away without love. He truly does love you. It's true love, but not in the way most think of it.

"I bet he's dying for you to stay alive. He'd swap your life for his in a millimoment. He doesn't want you to go. He loves you. He cares for you. He protects you.

"And that's why he doesn't want you in love with him. It's not rejection: it's thoughtfulness."

Jordan has tears in her eyes. "Oh my god, Hermione…oh my god…I never knew…Thank you!" She is the one who flings her arms around someone this time, wiping away sparkling, shimmering stars from her moonbeam cheeks. The Moon. She's the Moon. And the Star. And the Silver. She's everything.

I pat her shaking back. "Shh, shh, it's okay…"

"I've b-been holding in them for s-so l-long!" she howls, her face buried in my shoulder. "I was t-trying t-too hard to st-stay st-strong!"

"It's okay. You know, the Moon had water on it once, but it frozen. Isn't it almost like it's holding in tears? Emotionless?"

Jordan laughs and cries at the same time. "I'm the M-Moon?"

"And the Star, and the Silver. You're everything. Everywhere." I smile at her encouragingly. "You're amazing. So strong, so strong…"

"You can say it."

"I'm going to miss you so much, sis."

Her whole face lights up. A single tear makes its way down her cheek, rosy in the crisp, late-night air. Her eyes, her eyes, her silvery eyes are glassy as she stares up at the stars.

"Isn't it wonderful how these stars come out of nowhere? They've always existed, but you can only see them at night. In the time of darkness. When everything's going wrong, you can see their shine. It's beautiful." Her voice is hushed, and another tear joins the first, shimmering in the moonbeams. "And the moon—it glows all the time, but the only time you spot it during the day is when it rarely blots out the sun—an eclipse. Eclipses are beautiful. I've seen three in my lifetime, and I consider them neutral luck. I saw one when my parents died, but I also met Shelia that day. I saw one when my house burned down, but that day I met my best friend. I saw one when I heard the Prophecy of Silver, but I also knew things would get better that day. Because I was stronger." Her tears slide down her cheek and drip off her chin. The two. There are no more, no less. Two.

She sighs and traces a constellation with her fingers. "Pegasus."

"Yes. Some wizards believe that it draws unicorns together to mate—erm, never mind."

Jordan waves her hand. "No, no, tell me. I want to learn as much as I can before I go."

"Well, on the Day of the Unicorns, which is a time when unicorns shed their hair, rumor has it that the Pegasus constellation draws them together so they can mate. It also marks the Nursery, where their foals will be born. Did you know that unicorns' foals have golden coats when they're born?"

Jordan's eyes light up again. "Really?"

I smile. "Do you want to see some?"

"Heck yeah! Let's go!"

I take her hand and pull her toward the stables near Hagrid's hut. They're simple things, really, but warm and dry. They reek of must, though, and I freshen the air with my wand a bit. _"Perfumi,"_ I say, waving my wand around, and it helps slightly, making the air smell flowery.

Jordan lets out a little "oh". Two sleeping foals lay, their heads curled into their ribs, dreaming. "God, Hermione…they're beautiful!"

"Well, Miss Gold, I thought you'd have some…shimmer and shine before your time is up." I feel awful saying it, and a weight drops into my stomach. I start sweating and tremble slightly, and my vision kind of swoons.

Jordan rushes over to the foals and, tentatively, lays a hand on one of them. It wakes instantly.

"Oh, Jordan, no!" I whisper. "They're light sleepers!"

But the foal and Jordan face each other with a gleam in their eye.

"Lo, Isadora."

It whinnies and tosses back its mane. The chocolate brown eyes stare into the silvery gray ones, both of them full of curiosity and wonder. Then the unicorn backs slightly. I want to cry out but instead mutter, "Back away, Jordan, that's a sign of aggression!"

The foal steps back farther. This is bad, oh no, this is bad…

But it only wakes its sibling, a male. Jordan smiles.

"Hello, Timothy."

"How do you know their names?" I burst out, forgetting to speak quietly.

Jordan doesn't even glance my way. "They told me, of course."

"You speak _Animanili? The language of animals?_" I say, my voice brittle. "But—but that's impossible, no books carry that language anymore—"

"For God's sake, Hermione, we can read each other's minds!"

I fall silent. Jordan continues speaking in a soft, gentle tone that's nothing like her normal fiery, fierce voice.

They sit for a long while, talking. Then Jordan seems to remember that I exist and that I am present, and she touches her forehead.

"Sorry, Hermione. We should probably get going."

The foals snort in protest. Their eyes plead _stay_. But Jordan shakes her head, her eyes full of concern. "I'm sorry, Isadora. I'm sorry, Timothy. But I can't stay." She kisses their muzzles and steps out of the stables, as if she wants to get it over with fast.

I say "goodbye" and walk out too.

Jordan's sobbing quietly. "Isadora and Timothy were my parents' names," she informs me. No stuttering, no chokes. Dry sobs.

We walk up to the castle in silence, dreading the next day. Or, at least I am.

Jordan confesses something, suddenly and peacefully.

"I'm ready to go."

"Hmm? Pardon? We are going."

"I mean, I'm ready to die. I guess—seeing those foals, so young and innocent…for some reason, it opened a window in my mind. I realized that not everything wonderful can last forever. But little things—you calling me "sis", those baby unicorns with my parents' names, Draco's eyes…they make me think that I will still remember them when I'm gone, and that's all I really want. All I really need."

I link my arm through Jordan's. We've reached the main entrance.

I kiss her forehead. "Good night, sis."

"Come visit me. You have to. You have to!" she begs.

"I wouldn't miss it for the world."

Tears flood my eyes as the girl hugs me tightly.

Draco's POV

When I open my eyes, my first thought is _Jordan's leaving today._

I want to yell so loudly that Death himself is afraid.

"Not her. Why her?" I whisper, staring out the window. Fog curls around the treetops, fading into what will surely be a beautiful morning. Pink-tinged sky. Clouds the color of tangerines. The first rays of sun shining bright red. It's gorgeous, and I hate it. Everything should be gray and rainy, not glorious. That's just bogus.

I heave myself out of bed. I wonder what time she's going to die.

Gnat in my ear. Buzzing.

_Draco. Hurry._

_ I'm on my way! _Suddenly I'm wide awake, fear and pain coursing through my veins. I fly down the steps, out of the dormitory, exit the common room, race down a corridor, and quite frankly—I don't know where I'm going.

_Room of Requirement._

_ Gotcha! _I run and run and run and finally, out of breath, arrive at the Room of Requirement.

_I need to see my sister…I need to see my dying sister…I need to see the one who I love most…_

The door materializes instantly. I throw it open and find a comfy, warm bedroom with a window, a fluffy white bed, and two mourning girls. One is comforting the other.

Jordan is comforting a sobbing Hermione.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Hermione. I'm ready. I'm ready." Jordan's small pale hand pats Hermione's arm. She lies in bed.

Then she sees me, and all I see is swelling happiness and a sort of longing, but the heartbreak isn't "oh, I want to kiss him" heartbreak. It's more like "no, don't be sad" heartbreak.

"Hermione taught me a thing or two about romantic love versus sibling love," she says with a brave smile. I run to her and hug her and kiss her forehead and just whisper "I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over again.

She takes my hand and holds it against her cheek. It's warm and sweet and smooth. I sit on the foot of her bed, just looking at her, taking it all in. I can't believe this. She's really—really leaving.

"How do you feel?" I ask, my lips feeling much too big for my mouth. It comes out quiet and broken, and I don't mean for the heartbreak in it. It's tearing me apart to see her, so small, fighting against death.

"Weaker. But I feel okay." She grins at me. "At least Death had the good sense to make it painless when you go, huh?"

Tears spill out from my eyes. Jordan's mouth twists slightly. Hermione's sobs fill the room. Jordan's breathing is slow, full, and calm.

"You're ready to do this?" I murmur, my voice torn.

"I have been since last night." I can't believe she's not panicking. How is she not panicking?

"I think I'm calm—because there are things worse than Death. No love, dying alone—well, I guess I am dying alone…"

"N-no," Hermione hiccups. "Y-you're n-not al-lone. Y-you h-have u-us." Her eyes are puffy and red and watery. She cries, she screams, she curses Death and Life and everything…Hermione's a wreck.

"Okay, I kind of wanted to say something before I go." Jordan takes a deep breath and begins.

"Sometimes it's not about the destination. It's about the journey. I've certainly had a long one. My parents' death, my house burning down, the secrets I've kept. It's all been one long road of mystery and unknowing and worry—but it's also been comforting and knowledge-filled. I laughed, sobbed, cheered, cursed, broke, mended, loved, lost, even hid...

"I never liked Hogwarts that much. The lessons and stuff, they were fun, but there were so many kids to discover my secrets, so many teachers to uncover the truth, that it was unnerving and worrying every day. I hated the dormitory, when the girls would play Truth or Dare, Sisterhood Secrets, Spill the Beans—stuff like that. I played, but I was always a nervous wreck before each one. It was terrible. I was so scared I'd accidentally let something slip.

"My Thought-Reading is a blessing and a curse. When you're like me, you have to keep so many secrets it's overwhelming. I know things that I shouldn't. I learn things that I shouldn't. I understand things that I shouldn't. But I also know when someone's lying, or truly sad or angry. I can tell, and I can fix things that way.

"My parents, well, they died when I was nine. I dragged myself and my wounded leg to a small town, begging and screaming for help. I remember the flash of light, the smell of blood…I still have the nightmares. My leg was mangled and bleeding horrifically, and my voice was failing from the cries of help I had uttered.

"A young woman—Shelia—appeared from her little bakery. She thought I was a beggar's child coming to steal food. She warned me that she'd punish me if I stole anything, and then left to find my parents.

"My bangle, it has healing powers that I can use ten times. I've used it twice. Once on a horrible head injury, the second on my leg. It's an ancient charm—_Asbrobus Ehalius_—that the Ministry banned from use. It basically absorbs the blood and heals the wound instantly—but for a price. My price to pay was my dog. He died at home. Anyway, I hold blood in this bracelet.

"I remember it so clearly: Shelia returned and told me they were dead. I screamed for a long time, and finally Shelia adopted me as her own. She learned of my secret quickly, telling me that she was a witch as well and knew the dangers and advantages of Thought-Reading, and she fed me, educated me, and helped me along.

"My house burned down one day, a week after I turned thirteen. I remember I came back home from Hogwarts. The house—a little shop with two rooms in the back, Shelia's and mine—was burnt to a crisp. Shelia didn't make it. I remember screaming and shaking her, sobbing over her lifeless body. But I know that all good things must come to an end, and life must come to end too.

"I thought you should know all of this, really know _me_. I'll tell you some random things about myself, now, just so you can reflect on them later on.

"I love to run. I love to listen to music. I love autumn. I love metallic colors. I love lakes. I love water. I love the girls that save the guys. I love baseball. I love Converse shoes. I love the moon. I love the stars. I can't stand being pitied. I'm independent. I love peppermints. Baking and cooking are wonderful. Gray is a beautiful color. Being brokenhearted is horrible. Sunsets are breathtaking. Tears are both good and bad. Feeling the breeze through my hair and on my face is peaceful. You two are my family.

"And now, I think I'll settle down for awhile. A long while."

She closes her eyes. Her breathing is slowly fading. I take her hand, and her eyes open sleepily.

"Hey there, Malfoy."

"Hi, Gold." My eyes are teary and I don't want to see her go, no, please no…

"I loved you for a long time, but—I think I've finally learned what real love is." Her head raises and she kisses my cheek. "I'm going to miss you, Gray."

"Silver, I want you to know that I'm going to think of you forever." I brush some hair of off her forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

I wrap my arms around her body. She's so small, but so big…

"Hermione, I love you as well. You're the closest thing to a sister I've ever had. Take care of yourself."

"I-I w-will," she says, gulping, her voice cracked, almost wispy.

"I think I better go, but I thought of what I wanted my last words to say." Her eyes, her eyes, her silvery eyes shine with tears. "I don't like crying, but these are tears of happiness."

"Here they are: If you ever feel sad, look to the stars and remember me; Sylver, Jordan, Silver, Gold, Glisens, Star, Moon, Fire…whatever you want to call me. I'll be there."

Her eyes flutter and close, her breathing ceases, Hermione starts sobbing madly…

…and I don't feel anything, anything at all…


	14. Epilogue

_Gray Into Brown—Chapter 14 (epilogue)_

**A/N: Epilogue, here we go! I'm cutting out Hermione's revenge, due to her grief. I mean, she was going to have them fall into the lake, but I wasn't sure how she could do that if she's so sad. Plus, I wasn't sure what else to do after that. So last chapter! I'm going to do a Hunger Games fanfic after this! Please comment suggestions. I hope you enjoyed this Dramione. I honestly loved writing for the best audience ever. I'll say it one last time: enjoy the last chapter (aka epilogue) of GRAY INTO BROWN!**

Epilogue—Gray Into Brown

Hermione's POV

It's been nine years since Jordan died, and Draco and I still aren't quite over it. At first, it was awful: we labored on blindly without knowing what we were doing. Our only cure was each other.

Eventually, we grew stronger, knowing the Jordan didn't want us to suffer because of her. We used to sneak out at night and look to the stars and tell Jordan everything that was going on. I swear the stars would twinkle back happily, as though Jordan was asking them to shine just for us.

Draco and I were married a week ago, and we got a house in Diagon Alley that we nicknamed "Metallic" since we've painted the inside golden, gray, chocolate brown, and silver. It's a bit small, but it's beautiful, and it's perfect for the two of us.

Lavender and Parvati—well, we don't see each other much anymore. But if I do see one of them, I smile and say "hello" and then I'm on my way. I wonder if they ever regretted what they did to me. I honestly don't care anymore. I'm quite glad I didn't carry on with my "revenge".

Harry married Ginny and Ron married a very sweet girl named Rosemary. She's very nice and a very good cook, just like Mrs. Weasley always was. We stop over for tea often.

Draco's a Healer and I'm in Magical Law. We do very well. Our honeymoon was to a small place called Grand Rapids, Michigan, a quaint Muggle city. We stayed in a hotel, and I saw my first baseball game. It was wonderful.

The best news is that Ginny, Rosemary and I are all pregnant. It's going to be absolutely perfect, all having babies at around the same time. We've decided to see what we're having, and I'm praying it's a girl. So we can name her Jordan Sylver Malfoy. She'd be a pureblood, unlike Jordan, but I'm also hoping she inherits Draco's hair and eyes. I'd like her to have my brains and my mouth. Especially the teeth.

My sixth year was quite the ride. I can't say I enjoyed every minute of it, but almost three-quarters of it were phenomenal. Draco made my life special.

Right now, as I think of all this, Draco is sitting on the patio, drinking tea and staring up at the stars. I'm next to him, rubbing my stomach and praying for my baby.

Draco's lips brush my belly, and he kisses my baby goodnight. I love him so much right now it's almost bursting. My stomach has swollen slightly, two months into my pregnancy, and I swear I feel it growing. Our baby is going to be a spoiled little one.

The stars twinkle and shine as the gray eyes meet the brown ones. Gray into brown. How I love him.

I gaze up at the stars.

_"Thank you,_" I whisper to them.

And in the silence of the night, I swear I hear Jordan's voice say,

_"You're welcome, sis."_

And I'm happy.

_The End_


End file.
